There were two floor plans in our neighborhood that were in our price range. One had a dining room. One did not. I wanted a house with a dining room.
Soon after we moved in, I felt that the dining room was “begging to be painted.” In the house before, I had painted the hallway in a beautiful terra-cotta color that I wasn’t ready to part with. So, Clay Pot covered the Kilim Biege walls, and I loved it. The sun faded terra-cotta reminds me of scenes from Chocolat or Midnight in Paris…just the quaint, french country cottage look that I was trying to achieve.
The vintage mirror was taken from my parents old dresser. It didn’t used to be blue. I painted it on a whim one day after seeing the Ogden mirror in the Ballard’s catalog. I love blue paired with terra-cotta.
When I’m sitting in my dining room, I feel like it’s an extension of “The Boat Party” by Renoir: people dining together, breaking bread, and enjoying fellowship over good wine and great food. That’s why I wanted a house with a dining room. For the people, no, friends and family, who would gather around my table with whom I’d share laughter and create memories.
Even when the dining room is empty, it really isn’t. I can hear the echos of stories being told, multiple conversations happening at once and if I look in the blue mirror, the drawers shutting on that old dresser that sat in my parents bedroom on 14442 Victoria St. Yes, my dining room is my very own wardrobe that transports me to a different time and place.
I don’t think you could ask for more than that from a room.
See you in class,