My style is not Romantic, despite the name of this blog and the row of straw hats hanging on a clapboard wall. Truth is that previous owners had cut a round hole smack bang in the middle of that wall, I exposed the hole when I stripped off the drywall and Masonite so had to cover it with something round, and one hat looked lonely.
The hole had been occupied by a brass porthole visible in the room on the other side. I felt it looked too themed in the ‘Arr, Cap’n!’ school of decor (lighthouse doorstops, ship’s bells and heavily varnished round things they steered the ship with), so I put it on my sideboard as a fruit bowl.
I had made pendant lights in my main room from old crab nets left behind, and this week revamped them (inspired by industrial lighting in Summerhouse) by stripping off the fabric – so yesterday! – and replacing the bulbs with expensive, authentic filaments visible through the frame and netting. This has not been a success. They look beautiful but give off no light at all, and when for the third night in a row Stefan cried, “Candles! More candles!” at dinner, I conceded defeat. I can’t have twirlie fluorescent eco-bulbs with this aesthetic can I? so for the moment it is stalemate.
My tastes have veered to spartan and monochrome, and I am happy to follow where my inclination takes me, since this is meant to be fun, right? Seven years ago I painted the front overlooking the water bright blue, and the main room was IronBru orange with an exposed, vaulted, raftered ceiling, whitewashed. I had an eclectic and colorful selection of throws, rugs and cushions and I loved it – the orange was a great success. I can never leave well enough alone so the orange morphed to a more sedate terra cotta (bit too South West), and is now pale gray, with the ceiling natural wood planking (exposed rafters = no insulation).
More plans are afoot. I am desperate to take out the ceiling in my room and vault it too, with insulation, planking and white paint from the get-go this time, and I have such a clear vision for the main room I am almost surprised that it isn’t there already. However I am working from home, and paint and rolls of expensive, exquisite linen don’t mix. I could get strong skilled men to do it (I have only recently learned how lovely it is to pay other people to do work for you) but the Critical Path will need a bit of work. Then I shall say “make it so”, and the cabin shall become a proletarian fantasy of stark light, whitewash, bare wood and dark violet-gray. Watch this space.