Home sweet home
A gorgeous room set in Dovecote
We went to a party last Friday night - new friends, people we don’t know that well, but are looking forward to getting to know. It was at their home, the other side of town, and we hadn’t been to their house before.
We know they moved in recently, and have been working with decorators to get it finished in time for their house-warming party, and I know she has exquisite taste, so I was dying to see the house.
It was beautiful. Shades of cream and mushroom everywhere, beautiful rugs, coffee table books artfully and sparingly stacked on the elegant tables and shelves.
Stunning paintings, opulent curtains, it looked just like Dovecote. Dovecote is the most beautiful furnishing store in town. Their accessories are gorgeous, their furniture to die for, I go in there and I want everything in the store.
The problem is, you realise that after a while all these Dovecote houses look the same.
And as beautiful as they are, I’m realising they are not a home.
I thought this house was one of the most beautiful houses I’ve been to, and the decor was flawless. But did I want to kick my shoes off and curl up on a sofa? Did it look, for a second, as if there were three children living there (the children have a huge playroom/bonus room above the garage, plus games rooms and playspaces galore in the enormous basement). I walked around almost holding my breath. I was far too worried to sit in the living room with my glass of red wine - what if something happened? I’d never forgive myself. I rather suspect they’d never forgive me either.
In my old life, I had a house like that. A great, big, glorious new house. The children weren’t allowed to play in the living room, and everything had to look perfect all the time. Contrast this to today, piles of cookbooks in the kitchen, toys that are supposed to have been put away but haven’t been, sofas that are showing the wear and tear of five children living, truly living, in the house. The entire house…
I used to think I had to be perfect, because I didn’t feel good enough, and my house was a reflection of that. Now I am happy, and I am good enough, and our house is finally the home I always wanted, and if it’s not perfect, that’s okay.
Neither am I.
September 15th, 2008 at 11:47 am
I tell myself the same thing. Hey, whatever makes you feel better…
September 15th, 2008 at 12:15 pm
I love Dovecote too. The solution is simple, instead of decorating our homes in “Dovecote” style and having to worry about spills,stains etc… Dovecote can be a venue for parties:) Checking out the blog.
September 15th, 2008 at 12:30 pm
I agree. I love pretty things and a beautiful room but at the end of the day, if you’re afraid to move around in it, what’s the point. A home is a place where people live and that involves having stuff and moving things around.
September 15th, 2008 at 12:38 pm
You can have the largest house with the finest decor but it is not a home unless you and your family make it a home. I have been to some really beautiful houses but they weren’t homes. Home is truly where the heart is and I’ll take my home over anyone else’s any day.
September 15th, 2008 at 12:53 pm
oh thank gosh you said that… so if you come over you won’t mind my ikea furniture, toys that do not have homes, piles of school papers and fabric!! Great! (not that it is unlivable..but I just don’t have the “perfect” gene.) There is so much pressure….but frankly I don’t have any “spare money” left or the know how to make my interiors loook more “grown up!” I thought I was the only one in this town who is not “magazine” ready at all times!!! … my “magazine ready” friends say my house looks like a fun house??!! That is good right? I guess I am a little proud of all my bargain finds as well….love a tag sale!! I know I said I would stop blogging you…but I can not seem to stop myself… perhaps I need to tie my hands down… or stop looking at your blog… (hmmmm…I will try to tie my hands down tomorrow!) Sorry!!!
September 15th, 2008 at 4:10 pm
You’re such a great mentor!!!
September 15th, 2008 at 9:07 pm
I agree 100%. Those houses are fun to look at but i could never imagine living in them.
September 15th, 2008 at 10:18 pm
“and if it’s not perfect, that’s okay”- but it is perfect, it is perfect for YOU!
Cheers!
September 16th, 2008 at 12:25 am
Thank you for not making me feel so guilty for the state of my family room and kitchen right now.
But 4 healthy and happy kids are tucked up in bed.
September 16th, 2008 at 11:59 am
I know where I’d rather live…Give me untidy and happy anytime.
September 16th, 2008 at 12:52 pm
I can’t imagine my 18th month old in that room. Actually I can and there would be stains on the white sofa within minutes and I am sure she would gash her head on the corner of the coffee table!!! So yes even though the room is GORGEOUS, I would be a nervous wreck at all times. I will take comfort over chic.
September 16th, 2008 at 1:25 pm
Do you think they read your blog?
Aha, what the heck! you’re very funny and they should consider it an honor to be mentioned by you.
September 17th, 2008 at 1:00 am
Last week I visited showhomes with a friend in Okotoks, Alberta, Canada. They are ranging in price from $800,000 to $1,000,000. For about 3 days I obsessed about how perfect they were and how perfect hers will be when she builds one. I look around my house (which seems to be a work in progress all the time), and see the new green walls and the old blue carpet which my husband assures me will be changed to wood by my next book club meeting in the spring - I shall wait anxiously… Currently, the walls don’t match the floors and the furniture is temporarily rearranged by my 4 and 9 year olds into a fort with blankets, cushions, and toys, surrounding it, and the fridge has birthday invitiations, school schedules, and last year’s Christmas card photos taped to it. But I love to come home from work everyday and enjoy being in this home more than any other place. So do my kids, and their friends, and their parents too sometimes. I think I’d take muddled up home over perfect showhome any day.
October 5th, 2008 at 9:56 pm
What a lovely sentiment. Thanks for saying it so succinctly. I know Dovecote. I know those Dovecote houses. Cookbook piles and all.