Introducing...Home, Addressed!
I’m thrilled to share a project that came to fruition very recently. I certainly never planned on having a podcast, but through the process of getting to know a new design friend of mine (Margo Roth), it felt like a natural extension of the conversation we were already having: how do decorate your home in a way that feels totally like YOU? What is personal style at home and how do we define and refine it for ourselves? I’m in the throes of determining this for myself with our new home.
We’re launching the podcast by starting at the beginning: our childhood homes. In the first episode, we ask each other (and our Moms!) about our childhood homes, our favorite tv and movie homes, and other formative people and places from our pasts.
Below I share a bit more about my childhood home, which will forever hold a big Greek Revival slice of my heart.
There's a very clear reason I've only wanted to buy older homes: I grew up in them. This was my childhood home from the ages of 8-18: a grand, gorgeous Greek Revival-style house built in 1859. We didn't own it—we were merely its keepers for a few decades because of my Dad's job. It's a strange perk of being a college president, living in a home where paying a mortgage isn't required but perpetual hosting most definitely is—during the week, at the same time your kids have ballet or soccer practice.
Before we moved in, the neighbors declared it was decorated like a funeral parlor. So when my dad took the job (at 39 (!), my current age), my mom was determined to bring it back to life and make it "family-friendly" before the era of performance fabrics. It sat at the front of campus on Main Street in our small Kentucky town, and I was assigned the front left bedroom, mostly because the back bedrooms faced the football dorm. I'd spend hours reading books stretched atop an old radiator that ran the front width of my room, and at night, the creaks and clunks of an aging home lulled me to sleep.
It was a fancy house, for sure. But my mom never made us feel bad about breaking glass or needing to live too preciously. I think everyone at school thought we were rich, when in fact, we didn’t own the house or most of pieces in the house. What we were was enriched by the constant exposure of people different from us: professors, visiting speakers and guests, students. During events, we'd be tasked with hanging up coats and introducing ourselves, and then we'd scurry upstairs to our carpeted bedrooms and cushy couches. Mom's boldest design choice was a large-scale yellow floral wallpaper that transformed the entryway and set the tone for a house filled with color and pattern. She did such a great job, the local newspaper in the "big" city nearby wrote a full spread about it (see below). Beyond the cringe-y (to me) headline, this was pretty big recognition for a woman with no design training who grew up on a small farm in South Carolina. I have no doubt her designs sparked my love and appreciation for beautiful, vibrant spaces and worldly antiques.
For those of us fortunate enough to have childhood homes that were safe, loving, warm places, we will seek to recreate those nostalgic feelings over and over again. Not exactly, of course, but in small, subtle ways, we're always returning home.
