I have a thing for paint samples. I don’t why, but I love looking at them, collecting them and laughing at the funny names the paint color people come up with (Forbidden Mango, Flamingo Passion, Ultra White, Historic Preservation Trust Colonial Blue). That said, I think people who collect lots of paint samples for the purposes of making “recycled” crafts with them are stupid and wasteful (how is it recycling if you’re going around collecting brand new chips of colored card stock just because you’re too cheap to go to a craft store and buy the stuff?)
But I digress. One of the greatest things about buying a house (or at least attempting to do so) is that now I have a legitimate excuse to collect paint samples. And one of the greatest things about being single while buying a house is that I can paint whatever, wherever and whenever I want.
That said I’ve been having a hard time defining my style. (Because of course one must have a style, and one must define said style.) Modern? Eclectic? Contemporary?
Then again isn’t “modern” just another way of saying “contemporary?” (I mean we’re talking interior design, not dance, right?) And is eclectic just a fancy was of saying “None of my sh*t matches but I couldn’t afford anything else?”
It’s all very confusing, especially when you start looking at the sub-categories: Asian, eco-chic, shabby-chic, rustic, techno. (The last of these, as far as I’m can tell, involves lots of mismatched furniture and red and/or yellow boxes painted on the wall).
Because I haven’t actually bought my house yet, I’ve been pouring over websites, fabric swatches and paint samples to keep myself amused in the meantime. After my weekly visit to the Plant Hospital, I decided to take a quick stroll down the paint aisle to pick up some more brochures.
Dark and bold? No.
An entire color palette inspired by meringues? Scrumptious but no.
I was beginning to despair (what if I didn’t actually have a style? What if my style was so far off the charts that there wasn’t even a name for it? Would people come to my house, scoff at my walls and think, “What the f*ck happened here? We can’t be friends with her anymore.”) But then my eyes fell upon a little glossy brochure at the bottom of the display labeled “Global.”
Of course! It was perfect with just the right amount of “anthropological flair”: bright jewel tones, funky accessories, bold swaths of color and an array of mismatched yet still coordinated textiles. I loved it. I loved everything about it. It made me feel happy and alive and creative and so excited about what the future might hold. (Let me tell you, those paint advertising people do their job right.) Opening the brochure, however, I felt a little catch in my throat as I thought suddenly of my ex-boyfriend: he would have hated it. He would have hated it so much.
And you know what? That is okay, because by this time I imagine he has a nice little place in the suburbs that is painted just to his liking and I don’t have to feel guilty any more about not wanting to live there.