Daily Dose Blogger Bios
I'm Sad...
Last week I met Maxwell Gillingham-Ryan from Apartment Therapy at a blogging panel. Afterward I went up and introduced myself and asked him if he might come to my house for a therapy session. As I spoke, I spilled coffee all over the name tag that sat in front of him. Typical, I thought. "That's why they call me Scrappy-girl," I said.
I was nervous, and here's why. I've been avoiding apartment therapy (lowercase) my entire adult life.
I grew up in a family of six, in a house with four bedrooms. When we first moved there, my parents had the master bedroom, my older brother and sister had their own rooms,and I shared with my younger brother George. I must have been about four and he was two. We lived like that in our Raggedy Ann and Andy-decorated room with Wacky Pack stickers on the closet door for seven or eight years. (Ma, let me know if I'm exaggerating again.)
Then I started to go through puberty, and it was time for me to have my own room. My sister Sisi is eight years older than I, so when she moved out of the house, I got her room. But we didn't redecorate. Sue Ellen from the local interior decorating store had done it up in bright yellow and green with shag carpet and faux bamboo furniture. I hated it. And I still do. It looks exactly the same. The shrine I call it. But, even though all my Madame Alexander dolls are there with my Rob Lowe pictures, and corks from champagne bottles I polished off when I graduated from high school, the room is not mine. It never has been.
There are worse problems to have, of course. Most people grow up sharing rooms. But what interests me is how this has followed me all the way to Brooklyn to my current apartment.
My freshman year of college, I came to school with my mother's steamer trunk full of kilts and other preppy clothing some people would probably die for today. I never unpacked. Not the entire year. Once I even got tipsy and slept in the trunk. Meanwhile my poor roommate, Stefani, would sleep on the neighbor's window seat because I was impossible to deal with.
Sophomore year, I got a single. And that's the first time I remember decorating. I put a vertical line of covers from the Opera Theater of St. Louis up one wall, bought a rug at Target. I loved what I'd done with the place. I finally had my own room. But it wasn't long before it devolved into an enormous mess. Every apartment I've lived in since has been so too.
Maxwell, as I learned from the intro of his book "Apartment Therapy: The Eight-Step Home Cure" would say that I'm a warm person, and he'd be right. I hang onto things. Too many things. I am physically and psychically burdened. It's hard to explain in one post, so I'll return to this idea, but suffice it to say that his book made me cry tonight. First, because I used to share this apartment with a man I love very much who is no longer living with me. I thought--I'm lonely and my apartment is too.
But then I realized something. This sorrow, this dissatisfaction I have about my house goes much deeper. As far back as my sister's bedroom, and further.
Why else would I subconsciously paint my walls the same color green I inherited when I moved into my sister's bedroom? HELLO, THE WALLS WERE YELLOW, CATHY...
oh, you're going to make me cry! I wish I lived close, I'd come keep you company.
I promise I won't get morose anymore. I did a lot this weekend and it feels really good. I completely recommend the Apartment Therapy book. It's amazing.
Funny, I've never looked at Apartment Therapy, but my coworker lives in an apartment and was complaining about it and I'd read such good reviews about it, I mentioned it to her, and she ordered it from Amazon last week. I think she'll get the book this week, and I'll have to take a look at it. From what I see on their website, it looks like it's not just for apartments! There is nothing more therapeutic for me than making me house look great. Although we spend too much on our house, I figure when all is said and done, our house will feel like a vacation retreat, which is what I want when I'm not at work!!
Hi Scrappy, don't fret, you just got through step 1 of the therapy. I loved this book too and found it very helpful. I've passed it along to a friend whose ex is a handyman and everything in her house is half-completed. Every coverless switchplate shoots a trigger of pain through her. I gave her the book and the number of a good handyman and everything is turning around!
I am having such fun catching up on your posts. Don't be afraid to mingle all of your furniture from different eras. When you get the right balance and the right accessories, it will look great! People featured in Domino make it look easy. Right now I have an antique oak Post Office desk, a wire Bertoia chair and some '30s McCoy pottery all in the same room and it's working just fine.
Becky
Cathy - you weren't impossible to deal with - just a bit challenging for a shy unsophisticated girl from Long Island. You have an awesome heart and I am glad more people can get to know you via your blog.
Freshman year roommate Stefani
Stefani!
I spelled your name wrong...