We all know the kind of narrow house with the black hole of a middle
room to be found all over New York City. How people endured the gloom
of it all is a mystery. I once was asked to do over a house of this
kind. The walls and woodwork were tinted a dark brown. The middle room
was practically useless. My client said rather pathetically: “Can’t
this be made a place where the men would like to linger and smoke?”--it
adjoined the dining room. “They now run through it as fast as they can
to the library above, which is cheerful.” I didn’t wonder. Even a piano
and a “canned music” cabinet couldn’t hold them.
I immediately had all the woodwork scraped and panelled and painted a
soft old ivory. I found an English chintz with large flowers in the
gayest of rose and blue and mauve tones on a cream background. It was
some time before I could convince my client that the chintz was what
she wanted--but I have since had the satisfaction of having her tell me
she loves it more each year. I knew she would!
The curtains and portieres between the dark middle room and the dining
room--the darkest spot in the room--were made of this beautiful chintz,
so full of color and life. A large arm-chair was covered with it and
placed where you couldn’t resist it as you came out of the dining
room; a low table with a lamp was placed beside the chair, the only
light in the room previously having come from remote wall fixtures.
Small low tables for coffee cups also had lamps. Several pieces of
furniture were covered in the rose red--a wonderful shade--in the
chintz, and warm old rose rugs deep in tone were used. The room was
transformed. And my client laughingly said she couldn’t get the men
away from it. The moment they began to use it the charm began to work;
the evening papers with their various items of interest placed on a
table as a lure made a topic for conversation and the ice was broken.
Conversations begun at the table were easily continued over the
coffee cups and cigarettes. The room still had a distinct dignity and
formality as well, but it had the charm that only color can give.
We applied the same treatment to the library on the second floor, where
golden oak trim and green walls flaunted their ugliness. The oak was
rubbed down, stained and waxed, hand rubbed to make a soft velvety
English oak finish. A putty colored wall was used, a wonderful tone
where subdued yellow and green blended marvellously; beautiful Chinese
rugs of exquisite golden brown backgrounds--a rare color in Chinese
rugs--all made the setting, the frame for all else that was used in
the room. Book-cases built awkwardly out into the room were removed
and placed in a heaven-sent niche which we acquired by ripping out two
closets full of junk that were placed between the library and bedroom
adjoining. These niches were large enough to hold a desk on one side
and a table with a reading light on the other, the walls being lined
with shelves and filled with books. The space made by removing the
shelves from the room allowed us to place very comfortably in just the
right light a baby grand piano.
This room had two great points of architectural background: a very
well proportioned semi-circular window seat commanding a heavenly view
of the river and Palisades, with casement windows of small leaded
panes and a deep window seat; and a large fireplace framed in the most
villainous shade of green glazed tile and a wildly ornate “over-mantel”
with endless jig-saw wreaths and mirrors galore in panels. The
ornamentation was most carefully planed off--the over-mantel and its
mirrors entirely removed, leaving a very nicely proportioned low
mantel, absolutely simple. The hearth was re-tiled in old English
clay tiles and wrought iron fire-irons and andirons supplanted the
modern brass of hideous and much ornamented design. The same furniture
recovered was unrecognizable in its new background.
The only light came from the large bay window which took up practically
the entire width of the room. Only very thin curtains of grenadine
covered the windows, with a hanging at either end of the arch to
give color and soften the frame. It is marvellous, once our eyes
are opened to the possibilities of the changes we can bring about
in our surroundings. And if only people can be made to realize the
extraordinary reaction on their lives--in their spirits, in their very
health itself. Wasn’t it Whistler who said, after a visit to Walt
Whitman: “The room was furnished by a large earthen jar filled with
golden-rod and sunshine”?
It requires thought and judgment and it results in a gain to us of
perception and observation. You can gain some sort of a result out of
almost any collection of furniture if you will place it with a view to
producing a livable arrangement, just as, on the other hand, you can
“queer” very beautiful things by a poor arrangement.
Bear in mind that the home your children will remember is the home
they are growing up in now, today, and its effect is now reacting on
all their future lives. I honestly believe that much illness would
be spared if we tried to make our homes more happy in color and
furnishings. It is not possible to be gloomy in a room full of sunshine
and color and life.
You can get a gloomy result with very beautiful furniture. Men
decorators (I am sorry to have to say it) generally do get this result.
Their interiors are handsome, expensive, but heavy, and never by any
chance intimate or charming. You can make a home with a red geranium,
a muslin curtained window, a few unpainted chairs, a freshly scrubbed
floor and a clear kerosene lamp. It’s all in the touch; and once we are
awakened to it, and begin to see that, we can do wonders.
A last word is about kitchens--in New England, last summer, I was
taken with great pride by my hostess into her kitchen, which was a
revelation. The floor was tiled in dark red, the walls were lined with
shelves on which stood all the pots and jars (containing ingredients
of every kind) with bands of old blue decorations. A large table,
with a double frame going up horizontally from the sides, made two
racks, on which to hang the spotless shining utensils. Gingham curtains
with valances hung at the grouped windows on either side, as the room
occupied the width of the wing drawn out to build this model kitchen.
Flowers in pots stood in a row on the window sill. No wonder we were
served delicious food. The cook’s face and that of her assistant shone
like their pots. Work in such surroundings became a pleasant task. And
my last plea is to make your home happy by the right furnishings and
your lives will be filled with the joy of them. It isn’t a question of
money alone. Much can be done with little. It is just giving it the
right touch.