A Room of My Own

It wasn't until I hit 30 that this idea made sense to me. I was always on the move until then, barely surviving with enough money for a car of my own (which is absolutely necessary here in the wide-open plains), much less a ROOM of my own. But now that I'm married and got the kid, the mortgage, and the thousand sundry tasks of a middle-class chatelaine, I understand what it's all about. Yes, Virginia, I do believe I'll take that room.

A room of one's own is so much more than just a place to dump one's junk; it's the outward ideal of the inner person, and much more so than any other mode of personal expression like clothing. (The GAP and I parted ways a few years ago, and anything I'd want to wear--read will flatter my figure--I can't afford. So that's out.) Ideally, it's a cozy haven, an inspiring space, a place for me to be me when the rest of the world wants me to be them. And best of all, I wouldn't have to toss it out with last year's fashions, or if I gained ten pounds.

My room would have to be a studio. I've been working towards this ideal for some time now. After my years working in theater (not many, but the hours were long and I was a deeply impressionable lass), I know that my studio needs to be more than a little set piece tucked away in the corner of the den. My studio's got to rock. It's got to be practical and roomy, a place where I can really get my groove on. Preferably with northern light, and room for all my writing/sewing/crafting/scrapbooky-graphic arts-calligraphy needs.

Is that too much to ask? Maybe. I've claimed the spare bedroom. It does have northern light, but windows are late 60's suburban--too small and too high, like looking out a minimum security prison. But I'll work with it. We may also have to throw a couple of twin beds in there, as the room occasionally does double duty as a guest room. We'll see...

So having been inspired by the studios of great creative women, such as Alicia at Posie Gets Cosy and Ali at Ali Edwards Design, I'm finally getting My Own Room.

Last weekend I painted the walls. They're yellow. Winter is tough on me, and I needed someone around here to always have a cheery face in mid-February, so it might as well be my studio walls. Wanted a mellow lemonade yellow, but I got it wrong and didn't have time to correct my choice. Sunday I thought it looked like an overdose-on-vitamins-urine yellow. Now I don't think it's so bad.

What do you think?

The IKEA shelves are showing up this week, so Memorial Day weekend may be mostly about putting those buggers together and getting 'em in. We moved from an old house with tons of built-ins to this suburban place with no shelves, so my half my clothes and 9/10ths of my bookshave been in boxes for a year, folks. The shelves may be Scandanavian Surprise, and they may have cost me my whole summer's budget, but dang, I'm gonna have me some storage!

More to come...