As I contemplate the new year, and what it means—a fresh start, a new perspective, a blessed end to the turmoil of 2008 and a glimpse into the unknown that is 2009—I’m struck by the need we all have to get to know ourselves again. In contrast to the festive and often frenetic holiday season, the final months of winter are traditionally a time of nesting, of quiet contemplation, of rolling up sleeves and getting back to work—at our jobs or in the home. Of clearing out the excess of the holidays and rediscovering who we are and what we live with the rest of the year.

Holiday decorations have always been pretty traditional: tree, tinsel, ornaments, various garlands and boughs, dreidels and menorahs, and now, for some, the aluminum Festivus pole. But during the past few years, I’ve noticed a new trend. While the ornaments I grew up with consisted of glass bells, sugar plum fairies, pine cones, and beribboned balls with beads, it’s now pretty easy to find ornaments that represent very specific interests. Just this year alone, I saw electric guitar ornaments, pizza slice ornaments, soccer and basketball ornaments, camera ornaments, orchid ornaments, coffee cup ornaments, Buddha ornaments, and more. I’m sure you saw a few of these, too, and maybe remarked about how much fun they are. They’re charming, and a good way to personalize your tree and share your interests with your family and holiday guests.

But what about the rest of your home, the rest of the year? What can your family and friends learn about you when they enter and settle into your space? And more importantly, how well does your space reinforce for you the person you are and everything makes you wonderfully unique? Are you uplifted returning home after a hard day’s work? Does your home welcome you with symbols of yourself? Is it your sanctuary? It should be, and it can be.

As my mother would say, “it takes all kinds to make a world”. Everyone is different, and what works for one person doesn’t always work for another, and the shelter magazines have their own agendas. But there are ways for each of us to personalize our spaces, to make them friendly and welcoming to ourselves and others. You may put on a “uniform” of some sort to go to work each day, answer to others who have higher authority, play by others’ rules for 60 hours a week, but your home should answer to you, and reflect back to you the person you have become and the person you want to be. I call this concept “Identity Refreshment”*.

Ideally, from its site to its structure to its floor plan, to the layout of its furniture and the color of its walls, and everything else large and small that fills the space, your home or room should represent who you are. You as an individual, or your entire family—whoever lives there and their current interests, their past experiences, their dreams and hopes for the future. I say “ideally,” because few of us are lucky enough to build a custom home from scratch. Most of us occupy an existing building in a community that’s near our work, a single-family suburban home or a city condo or apartment. But each of us has a space, a choice of furnishings, a favorite color, a hobby. Each of us has a personality. A past, a present, and a future. And for optimum comfort and enjoyment, our homes must reflect that.

By no means am I saying that you should fill your home with the china and knicknacks you inherited from you great aunt. Unless you love them. Nor should you carry your college dorm room posters from school to your first condo to your single family home in the suburbs. Unless they still define your interests. We’re all different people at different times in our lives, and the key to designing a home beyond basic functionality is to strike a balance between the best parts of the person you were, the person you are now, and the person you hope to be. If you thrive amid clutter, great! Keep a few of dad’s football trophies on the shelf, or hang mom’s watercolors on the wall. Stack your travel magazines and foreign language phrase books next to your bed. But if you’re happiest and most comfortable in a very spare, serene environment, that’s how your home should be. You might choose a streamlined leather sofa, a wall-mount television, a rack for your bicycle, a large format abstract painting and be done with it. And that will make you happy. Or maybe at this stage of your life you need to work long hours to develop your career. Your home should be efficient, impersonal, and easy to maintain, with very few items that encourage you to sit back and get comfortable. Maybe it’s your office space that you need to personalize in order to enjoy your workplace as your home—for now.

In short, we shouldn’t struggle with our home environments. They should serve and support us, physically and emotionally, evolving along with us on our journey through life.

Here’s an example of the kind of synergy you can achieve with your home. One of my very good friends, Kira, is what you might call “bookish”. She’s a professional writer who also volunteers for an online literary magazine. She speaks impeccable English and pretty good French. She lives in a 900-square-foot San Francisco apartment with her two cats and a vast collection of curiosities, and (literally) thousands of books. It’s important to Kira to be able to get her hands on her books, so she chose an older apartment with a lot of built-in shelves. And for the rooms that lacked shelving, she had several book cases custom made. When she returns home or someone visits, the books send a message about who she is. But lest you assume Kira is a stay-at-home tea sipper, get this: she is also a master SCUBA diver who takes frequent diving trips all over the world. She’s an accomplished underwater photographer, and she’s taken the time to have her striking and very colorful sea life images printed and framed. They hang on the wall for her to enjoy and for her friends to get a glimpse of her other, underwater world. Kira is an animal lover and a naturalist, with collections of shells and pressed flowers, and other treasures. She’s also an accomplished cook with a valuable collection of antique egg beaters hanging by hooks in her kitchen. That’s Kira. That’s Kira’s home. They’re practically one and the same.

A lot of this might seem like common sense, and it is, to be sure. But from what I’ve seen, a lot of people, without even realizing it, settle for environments that work against them. They’re happiest in a streamlined, efficient environment, but they’re hanging on to old family heirlooms that bog them down. Or they live like nomads, with very few possessions, always planning to travel the world, or pick up and move to some exotic destination, but they can’t fully enjoy themselves in the space they’re in now. And that causes conflict between the dweller and the space—leading, ultimately, to an inauthentic existence.

So… what can you do to create the kind of space that refreshes your identity? During this quiet, contemplative season, take some time to think about who you’ve been and the most important people and experiences in your past. Who and what have shaped you into the person you are today? What are you “into” currently? Will it pass? Doesn’t matter. That’s who you are. Right now. And finally, who do you want to be? What are your dreams and goals, and how can you use your space to reinforce them and help you get there? What comforts you? Keep it, display it. What stresses you? Chuck it. Think about your five senses and include visual, aural, and tactile elements in your decor. Mom had a beautiful rose garden? Buy a bouquet and let its fragrance waft throughout the room, reminding you of her.

If you find that you need some help on your journey, find a designer with whom you have a good rapport, someone who will take the time to get to know you and help bring out your personality in your home. Someone who can solve problems, add some interest, edit judiciously, and be perfectly honest with you. Enjoy your identity refreshment! Aaaah!

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*For this concept I am greatly indebted to author and hotelier Chip Conley and his fine book Peak: How Great Companies Get Their Mojo from Maslow. Conley discusses identity refreshment in the context of his company’s uniquely branded boutique hotels. His company helps potential guests choose which of its hotels to stay in based on who they want to be when they travel. Recommended reading.

Anosmia: (noun) Loss or impairment of the sense of smell.

I recently found myself at a local wine bar, with a friend, enjoying a good conversation over a nice glass of pinot noir, my favorite wine. As it so happens (to everyone—or at least 51% of us), I soon needed to excuse myself to use the “necessary room for ladies.” (Actually, it was unisex, but I love the euphemism.)

Like the wine bar itself, the restroom was thoughtfully designed: spacious, well lit, with a nice color scheme and high quality fixtures. But as I approached the sink, my poor sensitive nose was assaulted with a horrible, perverted scent. You know it, yes: ANTIBACTERIAL SOAP. As this soap was my only option, I used a small dab to wash my hands, and then returned to the bar and my friend. And as I raised the glass to my lips, instead of the wine’s berry, cinnamon, leather, and cocoa notes, I got a whiff of my own hands. Which smelled of LAUNDROMAT. Or DAY CARE CENTER. Or MICHAEL JACKSON. The aroma has no basis in nature, so we’ll just call it “antibacterial”. And it was so strong and long lasting that it completely ruined my experience of the tasty and expensive wine I had hitherto so heartily enjoyed.

But it doesn’t end there. When I got home I washed my hands again, with the mild, all-natural, subtly almond scented hand soap I’ve used for years. But guess what! The scent remained. And when I got up the next day? There it was. It took a ten-minute shower, including shampoo, to finally remove it. I would liken my experience to that of Jerry and Elaine on the Seinfeld episode “The Smelly Car,” but I was up against a cloying, artificial odor instead of a musky, earthy one.

So why am I sharing this little story? First, if you happen to own a wine bar or a restaurant (lucky you!), please give some thought to the hand soap you provide to your patrons. Make sure its scent, if it has one, doesn’t interfere with the diner’s olfactory experience of your establishment’s food and drink. Scented soaps are fine, but consider lemon grass, lavender, almond, or the like—something not entirely alien to the gustatory experience.

For the homeowner, some advice: if you use any scent in your home, make sure it smells natural. And as with perfume or cologne, don’t overdo. Your home fragrance should never overpower that delicious dinner you so lovingly prepared. Verboten: Glade, Febreze, Air Wick, Lysol, Renuzit. Anything that plugs into a wall, spritzes itself intermittently, offers “continuous fragrancing,” or “plays” on disk in a “player“. Generally, avoid anything that calls itself an “air freshener”. Plus: they ain’t green.

Some nice options for home use: sprays, candles, and potpourri by L’Occitaine (I love their vanilla and honey scents), Jo Malone, Diptyque. They cost a bit more than the supermarket stuff, but a little goes a long way. Also consider home fragrances made by perfumers, who design fragrances to be worn on the body and therefore appreciate… uh… subtlety.

Jo Malone Pomegranate Noir Pot Pourri

Here’s how to follow my footsteps into Hido’s world*: www.toddhido.com > photographs > interiors. Go there and look, and see what stories the images tell you.

Hido’s latest work takes him outdoors, into landscapes as desolate but complex as his interiors. Most of these images are of country roads on rainy days, shot right through the windshield of Hido’s car. Driving somewhere, or nowhere at all. These works can be found online at the Web site of the Stephen Wirtz gallery, but if you have the opportunity, it’s worth the trip to see them up close.

*I would post some examples, but want to respect the artist’s copyright, of course.

It’s an antique—a Morris chair. I bought it for a few hundred dollars at an antique shop on Lincoln Avenue in Chicago, circa 1994. When I first laid eyes on the chair, I knew I had to have it. At the time, I had no idea who William Morris was, but I appreciated the chair’s honey-stained oak finish and its simple and functional design. A streamlined precursor to today’s recliner, the Morris chair has a deep seat with removable cushions, high arm rests, and a hinged back, which moves forward and backward against a wrought iron rod set within paired notches at the rear of the arms. Some Morris chairs are squarish and masculine, but this one had a few flourishes and feminine curves.

There was only one drawback: the cushions. Instead of the original leather or Arts and Crafts-style fabric, they were covered in a in a pinkish, mid-century polyester weave. OK… “pinkish” is charitable. “Barf-colored” is more accurate.

But I took the chair home and set it up in my apartment, vowing to some day find an upholsterer and some fabric, and have the cushions re-covered. The rest of the chair—at over a hundred years old—is as sturdy as ever, and will probably last well into the next millennium. The chair languished in my sparsely furnished Chicago apartment for a few years, and functioned as a landing for coats, purses, junk mail. Because while I loved the idea of the chair, its great potential, the cushions were so ugly that they had to be hidden.

Fast forward to San Francisco, circa 2008, where I now live and practice design. Where I have access to an unbelievable selection of designer fabrics in all styles from all over the world. Six months ago I had a meeting at the San Francisco Design Center with my friend and associate Stacia. After wrapping up our business, we decided to browse a couple of the showrooms. While Stacia was looking at buffet lamps for her client, I wandered over to the fabric section, as I always do, and there I found it: the perfect fabric for my Morris chair. Its color and pattern were stylistically appropriate—not just for the chair itself but for my rug and my other furnishings. The texture felt right, and so did the price. So I requested a sample, took it home, and started to envision my beloved old chair restored to something William Morris and I could be proud of.

I contacted my upholsterer and sent a photo of the chair, asking for an estimate. Because the job was so simple, and the original covers could be used as patterns for the new ones, the labor cost was well within my budget. A few days later I ordered the fabric and delivered the cushions to the upholsterer. They started the work on a Monday, and the very next day the cushions were complete. I took them home, unwrapped them, and fitted them into the frame, then marveled at the transformation. The workmanship was excellent and the fabric was soft and inviting. My cat curled up on the chair and immediately fell asleep.

So here’s the moral of the story: keep an open mind when you buy furniture and accessories, and learn to recognize a diamond in the rough. If you find something you love, even if it’s flawed (who isn’t?), take it home and live with it for a while, and think about ways you can modify or restore it to better suit your needs and your dreams. The experience is fun, educational, and rewarding, and you’ll end up with something very special and unique. If you don’t know where to start, your designer can help.

So here’s the origin of my obsession. I went to the SF Design Center on Tuesday to look for some fabric samples for a project. At one of my favorite showrooms, a veritable wonderland of fabrics, I spotted an old favorite. It’s an exquisite double-face (i.e. reversible) from Pierre Frey, a classic French fabric house.

It’s made up of two simple, separate weaves, a cranberry and black and an orange and black, joined together in random places so the two panels can move against each other. When it waves or catches the light, you see depth, and a beautiful interplay of changing colors.

After the Design Center I stopped off at the market, where I saw the pluots piled high on a cart. I was immediately drawn to them, so strikingly colored were they, and plump. And I love plums and apricots, so how could I go wrong with a pluot, their love child? The name told me all I needed to know.

So I bought a couple of the prettiest pluots and brought them home and put them on the window sill. When I unpacked my fabric samples, I came across the double-face, and realized immediately that it’s the exact same color as pluots—with the same shadings and variations.

So excited was I by this serendipitous color match, I took a photo to share with all of you.

I often find that colors stick in my mind and I tend to see them over and over in different contexts. It’s as if I’ve picked up a color “meme“.

Finally, in case you’re wondering…. I can confirm that pluots are, indeed, delicious. But before you eat one, take a moment to feast your eyes on its gorgeous color.

Do you live in a Victorian or Edwardian home but have Modernist tastes and tendencies? How do you reconcile your preference for contemporary, streamlined design and décor with the over-the-top, in-your-face embellishments built into the Victorian home? Here’s how: YOU GIVE IT RIGHT BACK! You celebrate your Victorian flourishes, but do it in modern fashion: IRONICALLY, of course. Here’s one way to get started.

First, find the most interesting Victorian appurtenances in your place. Look for heavy crown molding, ornate doorknobs, flamboyant ceiling light fixtures, cranky radiator controls, and the like. Then photograph them, Photoshop them extensively, and hang them on your wall!

Forget about frames, or using your picture rails (another Victorian embellishment). Unframed images are hot right now. They’re unfussy and inexpensive, and their thickness makes them POP(!) right off the wall. Use a service like Canvas Press to blow them up to any size, even JUMBO! You can hang them in groups or alone, depending on size and subject matter, just don’t be too fussy or formal about it. And next time one of your hipster friends chides you for shoehorning your Modernist vibe into a stuffy Victorian, you can show him your satirical celebration and shut him right up.

Most SINCERELY Yours,

GMR

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images ©2008 Geraldine Rebstock

So how can a designer use a decorative painter on his or her projects? According to Debra, a decorative painter can help a designer to visualize and realize his or her own aesthetic ideas, or she can consult with the designer to solve a problem, perhaps drawing the eye from a less-than-ideal view to something more interesting and beautiful inside, such as a mural or an abstract design. Faux finishing can also be an economical and sustainable alternative to other finishes, such as wood and stone in certain applications. Ideally, a decorative painter should be brought into the project as early as possible, so that he or she can make recommendations at the same time other key decisions are made and have input on project management.

What’s the process Debra follows? First, she typically gets an inquiry from either a home owner or a design professional, then she visits the space. This visit is important, so Debra can get the kind of feel for the space that a photograph does not provide. She brings samples of her work to the project site, and takes pictures as a record of her visit. She also writes down all of the project requirements in preparation for a bid, which includes labor and materials. Debra provides a timeline and final pricing within her contract, and begins work once the contract is signed and a deposit is paid. She typically provides up to three finish samples for a decorative painting or faux finishing job or a mockup for a mural. Depending on the project scope and the surface to be treated, Debra works either onsite or in her studio. Ceiling treatments, for example, obviously require onsite work, while furniture can often be delivered to the studio and painted there. When the project is complete, Debra receives final payment. She keeps a dossier for each project, including design details and exact treatment formulations, and provides touch-up materials to the client.

Finally, Debra, what’s new in decorative painting? Metallics and iridescent treatments continue to be very popular, and Debra does a lot of custom designs on walls. The current trend is more toward abstract and geometric designs rather than realistic scenes. Glazing and layering are also hot. These techniques use different colors and paint finishes to create interesting textures and depth effects.

Thanks, Debra. I’ll be looking forward to working with you….

Most of us use mirrors every day—even several times a day—but we rarely give much thought to what they do for us and how best to use them. The most obvious use of mirrors is for showing people their reflections, so they can make sure their false eyelashes are on straight or that they haven’t missed any belt loops while getting dressed. The best mirrored medicine cabinets now come with lots of interior features: color options, lighting, swing-out magnifying mirrors, electrical outlets, and even refrigeration—to keep those expensive lotions and creams nice and fresh and cooling to sensitive skin.

Full-length mirrors haven’t gone so high-tech. We seem to make do with the wall- or door-mounted version, or the Cheval mirror, or the good old mirrored sliding shower door. That said, what some full-length mirrors lack in upgrades, they more than make up for in detail (this one’s a dilly!). From the days (OK, years) when I watched All My Children, I remember the lovely and scheming Erica Kane always had a mirror by the front door. True to character, she never failed to check her reflection and fluff her hair—before answering the door or stepping out.

But beyond their use for confirming one’s own comeliness, what else can one do with mirrors? Well, the mirrored bedroom ceiling certainly comes to mind. Remember that urban legend from the swinging 70s? I’ve never seen one, but I’m sure they hung over many a round, satin-sheeted bed (except in earthquake country). Some friends recently told me of their tour of Mill Valley home some family members were renting. They didn’t know when the home was built, but it had been remodeled most recently during the 70s, and the bar still featured a ceiling-height backsplash of smoked mirrored tile with gilded streaks. During that same era, as I recall, entire walls were clad in mirrors to visually “expand” rooms to up to twice their normal size (or was it one and a half?). I always hated to see that done, because even as a child, I pegged it as a form of fakery, of cheating. Sure, it had its function, but that function was foolery and I wasn’t having it. What good is a “room” that you can’t walk into—that greets your very attempt with a bang to the face?

But aside from the design foibles of the 70s, mirrors can be used more subtly to wonderful effect for adding light to rooms and reflecting colors and interesting features. They always catch the eye with reflected light, and keep our attention because we’ve trained ourselves to look at them. Mirrors can also be used distract the guest from less-than-beautiful views. And mirrors need not reflect images exactly: mirrored wall tiles can take on color and other features to create a different mood or decorative effect. Feng shui practitioners claim that mirrors can be used to direct the flow of energy (chi) around a space.

So what’s new in decorative mirrors these days? In a word: convex (i.e., bulging!). When I went to this year’s decorator showcase house with my designer friends Stacia and Andrea, we all remarked upon the fact that almost every room featured a convex mirror. And while I hope they won’t become terribly commonplace, I have to say that convex mirrors are one of my all time favorite decorative items. Not only do they reflect images and light, they provide depth as they project from the wall into the room. And they also show us a distorted vision of reality that’s fascinating at any angle. (Plus, any word that contains both a “v” and an “x” is cool with me. Say it: “con-VEX!”) Convex mirrors are often used in modern ships to help navigate tight quarters, and you can often find used ship’s mirrors for sale at antique shops and auction houses. Highly decorative “girandole” mirrors were popular in England and the United States during the Federal period, and both originals and reproductions are easily acquired—for earnest use in your period-perfect Rococo manse or ironic use in your urban loft.

The most popular convex mirrors right now are what we call “sunburst” style—with the central reflecting disc surrounded by stylized “rays,” which might themselves be mirrored, or made of wood or metal. The most gorgeous versions, in my opinion, are made right here in the Bay Area by a company called Hayes de Fer. Another nice, and comparatively affordable sunburst mirror is sold by my friends at Kenneth Wingard. Their version is based on mid-century designs.

Finally, just a musing: if your eyes are the window to your soul, and you can only see your eyes in a mirror, does the mirror reflect your soul, or only a simulacrum?

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Image © M.C. Escher. Low-resolution image used for purposes of critical commentary.

We’ve all heard the maxim that “form follows function,” but how many of us have paused to give it any thought? Popularized by Chicago architect Louis Sullivan, the phrase means that the Function of a building, an interior, or an object should dictate its form. This is sage advice, and designers and crafters following this principle have given us some of the world’s most elegant objects and spaces. And I would submit that deep down in our DNA, humans and other animals are wired to find beauty in the useful. After all, we evolved to our current state, and that process has preserved the parts of us that function most effectively, molding the visible features into signals that announce our health and intelligence—and thus our suitability for reproduction, which continues the cycle, and the bond between utility and Beauty.

But this is not to say that pure Form has no function. As one of my design instructors once said, “sometimes the purpose of an object is magnificence”. I’ll add that an object might also provoke thought. A painting or sculpture, which  has no obvious physical function, can speak to the uniquely human need for beauty, ornament, and intellectual stimulation—for their own sake.

Truth is another ideal toward which all designers and artists must strive. To me, Truth encompasses pure materials, excellent design, fine craftsmanship, and the elegance and integrity of the spaces and objects they produce. Truth also represents absolute honesty, integrity, and transparency in the practice and the business of design.

Taken together, these ideals—Form, Function, Truth, Beauty—can transform lives. When we surround ourselves with spaces and objects that are beautifully suited to their function, designed and made with honesty and integrity, we have achieved that wondeful goal.

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This Wikipedia and Wikimedia Commons image is from the user Chris 73 and is freely available at http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Image:NautilusCutawayLogarithmicSpiral.jpg under the creative commons cc-by-sa 2.5 license.