Ever since hipsters revived colourful, jaunty scarves, these scraps of fabric have become a sartorial favourite. I have fallen victim to scarf overload and often find that I forget about that cute blue and white striped number or the fun leopard print silk from Italy. Determined to give all my scarves equal time in the spotlight, I was on a mission: find a scarf organizing contraption that was modern, cheap, and useful.
Like a good librarian, I did some research. I Googled around to see if such a thing already existed. Apparently many people share my scarf-mania, since I found lots of DIY scarf organizing projects. None of these projects appealed to me; I didn’t want to spend a lot of time or money creating the perfect system. I don’t love my scarves that much. Continue reading
October marks the two year anniversary of owning my home. In this time, many small home improvement projects have been started and some have even been completed. Upon purchase, the house was (mostly) move-in ready, with the exception of one hideous bedroom. I claimed the ugly duckling room as my own and started renovating.
Carpet was ripped up, walls were painted, a new light fixture was installed, artwork was hung, and new floors were laid (I have to give a shout out to my wonderfully handy partner in crime – no, not Tracy – for doing the lion’s share of the work. Thanks baby!). I finally had a beautiful room for my very own.
Besides populating the closet and a hand-me-down chest of drawers, I wasn’t sure what to put in my room. Over the past two years, it has mostly sat empty as I waited for inspiration to strike. Then, it hit me: With the start of our blog, I was suddenly in need of a writing desk. Continue reading
Earlier, in a love letter to my apartment, I mentioned that I’m in the process of courting a new home. Well friends, last night my apartment and I took things to the next level (before this gets weird, let me say that this “apartment love” talk is a clumsy attempt at anthropomorphism, not a clumsy confession of my secret objectum sexuality). Anyway, I painted a wall.
Today I leave for a week in the woods and will be dropping letters along the way. Photos of letter locations will be updated periodically.
Hope to hear from you,
My basil could kick your basil’s ass!
A billion years ago, in 2007, I was in an emotional hell. Physically, however, I was in a lovely (by student standards, anyway) century home with four amazing women. My bedroom was in the former attic. It had a single sash window and slopey ceilings. It was warm all the time.
I slept a lot that year. I have odd and incredible memories of laying in bed, just staring at my creamy, butter yellow walls – and not in a “The Yellow Wallpaper” way, either – the colour (chosen by a stranger who had lived there before me) actually quelled the sad. My window, almost certainly the original, was speckled with white paint and the frame was chipped and cracked. From that window, the world seemed okay: picturesque and non-threatening. I loved that room and can’t imagine making it through 2007 in any other space.
Recently, I moved into a new apartment. It’s my first time living alone and I find myself thinking about the yellow room a lot. What makes a space feel THAT safe and “good”?
Join me as I court my new apartment in hopes of falling in love.