Tag Archives: white walls

Next time around…

19 Jan

Do you know what’s going to happen? Because I can predict the future and all…. My sister, Ashley, is going to want Brad and I to design a house for her. She, quite frankly, loves everything we do. And that is her job as my little sister. To love what I do.

She was looking through the pictures of gappy floors last night. She loves them. Because I love them. Actually, she loves them because the look good. So on the list of things to do in a house for Ashley I have plank-like floors with gaps and I’d like to have some beam action in her ceiling—I’m not sure the technical term for these, if they are exposed ceiling joists or if they are just there for aesthetic purposes but nonetheless… this look is going in her file. She has a file now. Not a house. A file. But a file is a start. A file—how official do I sound?

Check out the beams/joists whatever in this Scandinavian-inspired home.

By the way, the bathrooms from the previous post—we scanned the pictures and when we rolled past the bathroom I mentioned as being something I would choose for her home she said, “I love that bathroom!” I know you do! I wrote about you and the fact that I thought it was so you. Clearly someone is not up on her blog reading—ahem… this is required reading little sis. I was totally smug about the fact that “I know” her style. I was. I’m sure I’ll be sent to the hardware store today for a dose of humility because I know nothing when I walk through the doors there.

Pictures via Martha Stewart. Because she’s brilliant.

Thanks for looking. Thanks for reading. Just plain thanks.


Let there be white.

2 Dec
Back and forth, back and forth, I go back and forth. Here’s the trouble with me: I never stop looking and I like to keep my options open. Gray and white. That’s the color palette I’ve landed on for Bradford Avenue. And, I am leaning toward gray everywhere except for the all-white kitchen.
And then I stumble upon something like this and remember why I love white. White, I confess, I used to think you were boring and plain. I didn’t even consider you to be a color, just a base for all other color to come to life. I was a real idiot then. Forgive me. Here’s the truth about white: It’s a color that invites you breathe big, deep breaths; a color that makes room for you and opens the doors to a little slice of serenity.
Take a look at this Manhattan loft, a former shipbuilders’ warehouse, built in 1839. My commitment to white doubled after I took a glance.
Those are books behind their legs—do you see that?
Who doesn’t love a rolling ladder?
Or, brick walls?
Or, big pieces of art?
Or, exposed beams?
Or, painted wood floors warmed up with a rug?
Or, having a winch in the playroom?
There’s a winch—an old, real, winch from the 1800s once used to deliver sail cloth to the shipyard. Thank heavens someone had the good sense to leave this in tact. These are the sorts of things people tear down and then kick themselves about years later.