I’ve gone from living in a family with a daughter, a son, and a our frenchie, Serena, to living in a family with a daughter, a son, a husband, three near-adult stepsons, and two dogs named Teddy and Sailor – and, no, Teddy and Sailor are not female.
There’s a whole lot less femininity around here these days.
And here’s the thing: I need a pretty house.
Not only is the house less feminine than I’d like it (when you need six bedrooms in spendy Stepford, a Baltic Brown kitchen is part of the deal), but the union seems to have increased my need for a delicate look. It’s as though the more testosterone there is in the joint, the prettier I need things to be. If I were running Fight Club, it would be dripping in Colefax and Fowler.
The book is filled with beautifully feminine rooms.
There is nary a milk crate storage bin or hockey bag in sight!
The authoress does not insist you take over the whole house (pity), but is insistent on claiming some space. I’ve always been a Room of One’s Own kind of person and, in my current house, my office/parlour is my sacred space.
Are you a fan of feminine decorating? Do you have a room of your own?