OK, so Carrie Bradshaw coined it. But anyone, anywhere, who’s as obsessed with décor as I am, has felt it. Once upon a time, in a pre-kids life, I used to spend my Saturday afternoons traipsing the city centre in search of the next item of clothing that would utterly transform my wardrobe. As my eyes settled upon the prey, often referred to as ‘the most beautiful pair of shoes I’ve ever seen’ or ‘the most beautiful dress that has ever been’ , the stars would align, et voilà, it would all just fall into place. In my head, all sorts of forgotten clothing gems would leap from their dusty space at the back of a drawer to jostle for a date with this new kid on the block. Of course, this isn’t how it ever went in the end (obviously - clothes can’t actually jump.) I just told myself that to justify my newest purchase. But putting outfits together took me to my happy place. Never more joyful was I than when my bed was covered entirely in clothes, having pulled every potential item from the wardrobe and subsequently completed a catwalk show for my mum and wee sis, before choosing the perfect ensemble for my Saturday night out.
And then, something changed. I got my first home. In the beginning, I think I must’ve been oblivious to it. But as the ELLE Decoration magazine mountains climbed higher, and my fashion favourites were left abandoned on the supermarket shelf, I realised. I too, had been ‘doing the dirt’; betraying my first love, fashion.
My new fixation with cushions, lamps and paint colours saw me neglecting the shoes, skirts and dresses I had loved for so long. And more worryingly, this fix reached a whole new level of intensity, as did my constant need for more. I can say with a good degree of certainty, that I currently own enough copies of the Living Etc. back catalogue to paper the walls of every sitting room in our street.
Fast forward to 2018, and now, in my second and ‘forever’ home, a house that I’ve poured my heart into perfecting, my need has been sated somewhat. Well, for now anyway. Having lost count of the number of sample pots I tested on the inside of a cereal box, in my quest to find the perfect mustard yellow to paint a number five on the kitchen wall, I think I’m done for the minute. And it has occurred to me that there is, in fact, a strong correlation between these two life passions of mine. We see glimmers, get shivers of the same excitement and opportunity for creativity in decorating ourselves and in decorating our homes. Both speak of the people we are, of the personality we want to reveal. It’s all about channelling that inner creativity. As for my apparent infidelity, it turns out there’s actually no cause for alarm. I’ve eventually come to realise that an open relationship with these two loves of my life is entirely possible. It mightn’t work for everyone, but it works perfectly for us. ; )