Five Home Decor Trends That Have Overstayed Their Welcome

This blog post could have a lot of alternative titles. Ones like "Unrealistic Things I'm Tired of Seeing in Magazines" or "What Laura Writes When Low Blood Sugar Crabby," for instance. Or for that matter, "No One Told Me Listicles are Overdone." No, not really that last one. I know they are overdone. And I hate the word "listicles" with a special passion. 

I'm not really talking about those fads that rapidly reach peak everyone-everywhere-yawn within months (like chevron pillows in 2013, for instance). I'm talking about those trends that keep hanging on and hanging on and hanging on, until people take it for granted that they are a good idea. And yet aren't. 

A couple of disclaimers before I start this list (hold the "-icle").  Though I could find better visual examples from elsewhere and still be under fair use rules, I'm not going to use photos from commercial sites and especially not other blogs for this post, because it seems rather shitty to me to call out specific individual people for their choices. We should all do ourselves and our style, regardless of other people's opinions. Including mine, which leads me to the second disclaimer. It's my opinion, for my own house, and the way I live. But I'd love to hear other people's nominations for and disagreements with this list. Here we go!

1. White slip-covered sofas. 

This one is the worst offender, and it dates back to the beginning of the whole shabby chic trend from the 1980s. You can love or hate shabby chic itself, and I have no strong feelings either way until you get to the anchor element of that style, which is the plumply upholstered sofa slipcovered in something like canvas dropcloths (utilitarian version) or vintage French linen bedsheets (people-with-more-money-than-I-will-ever-have version). Every magazine spread that has ever featured one of these sofas in the history of ever always has a giant (black) dog, or a couple of slightly sticky-looking (diapered) toddlers, or a glass of the noir-est pinot noir within what should be this thing's de-militarized zone. The photo is always paired with a blithe quote from the homeowner saying "White slip-covers are the easiest-care furniture. Spills don't matter, because you can just pop the covers in the wash, and put them back on. What a breeze." 

Besides the fact that these sofas already look like unmade beds (and should you want to look at an unmade bed, sheesh, go look in my bedroom, where one normally finds such things), if you want these slipcovers to look clean on a DAILY basis, one would be washing them daily. Because white+dog+young children+wine+overdyed jeans+illegal popsicles in the living room= never looks clean. And if the slipcovers are always in the wash, that means they're never on the sofa. Which means that you're constantly putting them back ON the sofa. Which is sort of like wresting an elephant into giant elephant-sized pillow case. Every. Day. 

I'm still trying to decide how in the world the white sofa trend caught on at all, and yet it will not go away. You know what color my sofa is? Brown. Because that's the color of coffee, chocolate, and dirt. It'd probably hide a good pinot noir indiscretion too, though so far I've been lucky. And while my sofa is a second-hand one and probably not what I'd have chosen new, it certainly hasn't thrown me into any illogical "white is the easiest color to clean" neuroses. Which is just as well. My washer and dryer time can therefore stay reserved for bigger priorities. Like socks and towels. 

2. Chalk Paint

I've said before that I'm not the biggest fan of painting wood furniture as an entire recent trend. (That's another opinion post I've long wanted to write). Not that it doesn't have its place, and I certainly have painted furniture pieces in my own house. 

But even more specifically, I don't understand the vast enthusiasm on DIY blogs for chalk paint. It's flat paint. My cynical gut reaction to that is "big whoop." We've had flat latex paint for a long time, and even more importantly, we've had flat latex paint for a long time and it didn't cost an arm and a leg and a first-born child, like chalk paint seems to. 

Even more puzzling to me is painting a piece of furniture with chalk paint and then waxing or poly-coating it. Um. Hmm. If you don't like the flat surface, either for ease of maintenance or aesthetics, then why in the world would you start with a product that doesn't give you the finish you want in the first place? Paints come in a range of gloss options. It seems like people are opting to go the costly and time-intensive route for no other reason than that it's trendy.

Chalk paint is another thing that traces it's origins back the shabby chic style, which favors chippy, distressed surface pieces of furniture. I'll admit I'm very much on a case-by-case basis with this style. One piece I will like. The next will seem fake and I don't like the pretense. A whole house of this stuff seems twee and not very visually grounded.

I just don't get it.

3. Pallet wood anything

I'm all for a little upcycling. I'm all for finding building materials on the cheap. But here's the thing about shipping pallets. They're used for shipping all sorts of things. Which means they are exposed to all sorts of things. Rodent droppings and bird feces. Pesticides. Herbicides. Fertilizers. Petroleum by-products. Mold and Mildew. Spoiled food. Blood. Chemical toxins. Heavy metals. Wood is a porous material that can absorb a lot of not-so-nice things. You can't sand or wash it off. 

So when I see them paneling a baby's bedroom, or made into a coffee table, or anything remotely to do with humans sleeping, eating, or placing objects on them, or growing food in them, I don't find it "rustic" or "clever" or "thrifty." I want to quite literally gag. 

It's my mother all over when I was a  little kid and put some random something in my mouth: "you don't have any idea where that nasty thing has been." Same thing with pallets. I've been aghast about the building-everything-with-pallet wood trend since the beginning, and I can't quite understand why no one has considered the possible health risks. Because that's all I can think about. 

I'll be passing on the pallet wood projects, all of them, everywhere, ever, and can only hope everyone else will too, though I'm not holding my breath. I don't think it's worth the risk. And really? Yuck. Just yuck. 

4. Open Shelving in Kitchens. 

Open shelving in kitchens is the evil twin sister to white slipcovered couches, I'm sure. If white couches are the ultimate in impracticality in the living room, open shelving is that same ultimate, the kitchen version. 

In magazines, it appears that people who have open shelving in their kitchen bought their entire tableware ensemble from this spring's Crate and Barrel catalog plus a few pieces of tasteful art pottery they picked up in Tuscany that last time they vacationed. There's a single fresh poppy in a slender vase posed just so next to the salad plates. And if we've admitted to actually eating in this open-shelf kitchen, there's a bowl of artfully stacked clementines and three boxes of organic whole-grain quinoa hipster crackers. You know those hipsters. With their artisanal hipster crackers. Pfft. 

I don't think I'm going out on a limb to say that most households have plenty in their kitchen cabinets that are not view-worthy. I am not going to style my mismatched dinner plates, or the plastic Peter Rabbit and Winnie the Pooh cereal bowls my teenage boys still eat their Cheerios from. I don't want to look at them, and neither does anyone else. Even the items I do use in my kitchen that are beautiful, I don't want the added work of keeping them attractively arranged, dust and grease free, and color-coordinated with the decor of the room. For a woman who often barely manages the time to flip grilled cheese sandwiches in this space, I'm sure as hell not going to sacrifice ease of maintenance and practicality to stage my kitchen as some sort of glorified still life. That's what fireplace mantels are for. 

Here below are my refinished 1960s era kitchen cabinets. With all their glorious doors of glorious hidden storageness. Just like nature intended. 

What my kitchen might look like if it was open-shelf concept: 

Yup. Economy-size boxes of Cheez-its and bulk warehouse oatmeal. No bud vases or polished clementines anywhere. I rest my case. 

5. The entire concept of decorating for resale value

The idea of making all of your design choices in a house for the benefit of the next people to own the house drives me straight bonkers. Have you met them? Do you know anything about their tastes? Are you willing to bet the farm and $10,000 on granite counters that you do? The answer should be no, no, and hell no. 

This is less a decor trend than it is an ongoing and tiresome philosophy, but it needs to stop. I think the constant grating on the topic of resale value in home improvement shows is merely to sell you things your home may or may not need. Is resale value important? Absolutely. But what they don't tell you on these shows is that for the majority of homeowners over the long term and in stable markets, real estate value is only going to increase, regardless of what you do to your home short of outright neglect and abuse. So if that's the case, why in the world would you subject yourself living in a sea of beige carpet and white walls? Why would you invest in granite counterops if you don't even like them? 

Go ahead. Paint your front door orange. Keep that knotty pine paneling in the den. Paint your bedroom wall royal purple. Put that gorgeously-patterned mexican tile on the floor in the bathroom. Bring home those vintage pieces and weird quirky things that make your heart sing, and stop consulting the opinions of people who don't even live there. The next owners of this house can worry about it when they own it. Right now, they don't get a vote.  

What are the decor trends that really toss your sofa cushions? What would you add to this list? Which one of them would you defend, and why? 

New Mid-century Art: Great Things on Etsy

Mid-century design enthusiasts are constant and savvy second-hand and vintage shoppers. But it doesn't always have to be a scavenger hunt.

Don't get me wrong. For people who love the design styles of past decades, the thrill of the hunt is part of the passion. But Etsy artists are turning out a lot of new and amazing stuff that would go seamlessly in Mid-century modern homes.

Here are my top picks from a recent Etsy "window-shopping" foray. The links to the items are in the captions.

This clock from CoMod Classics is amazing. I thought the clock was constructed of wood with metal "rays" like the vintage starburst clocks. On closer inspection, it's entirely laser-cut wood. It's a sharp, smart-looking update to the design, and the rays on this clock are reminiscent of the hairpin legs on tables from the time period. Double design win.

Mid-century inspired clock by CoMod Classics, Etsy.

I might just flat out get this Mid-mod monkey, from gutentagfibers. Not that I'm a monkey fan (other than the ones I gave birth to) that much. But the little guy is a cheeky take on Mid-century modern sculptor Henry Moore's abstract reclining nudes, and I love the little inside joke there. 

Mid-century Modern Monkey, by gutentagfibers, Etsy.

Is it just me, or does the print below, from Pool Pony Design, remind one of the Partridge Family logo? (can I have a show of hands for David Cassidy fans?) C'mon get happy even if it doesn't, because the Etsy site has lots of great prints of owls, cats, abstract designs, and even Catherine Holm bowls in lots of Mid-century appropriate colorways. 

Short Stack, Mid-century design art print, by Pool Pony Design, Etsy.

I'm also seriously considering where I might be able to work in one or two of these kidney shaped tables from Lunar Lounge Design. I think they have the most impact in groupings of two at least. The Esty seller makes other high-end pieces that are worth a look. 

Kidney Bean Coffee Table by Lunar Lounge Design

Do you own any new, but definitely Mid-century in spirit items? 

Painter's Tape Review

Under the blog tab "Front Hall Closet," (go ahead and read the whole thing over there if you want, I'll wait.....) the first two general statements read:

1. I am not a professional.

2. Sometimes I swear. 

Just these two declarations pretty well cover the description of me painting, and especially me painting using painter's tape. Over the years I've used quite a bit of it. Not because I want to, but because with my love of bright or dark colors, living through the 1990's stenciling craze, and feeling obsessive-compulsive about doing things neatly, I feel like I have to. 

In the past, I've gotten frustrated enough with the results from painter's tape to just go at it free-hand, especially in the line between ceiling and wall. I have a pretty steady hand, I've learned to push a "bead" of wet paint ahead of the brushstroke, and I figure that most people can't scrutinize your work standing on the floor looking to the 8-foot ceiling level. 

Fast forward through many, many paint chips and projects to the kitchen renovation currently under way, and once again I'm faced with the dilemma of a clean line between a pretty intense color, the avocado green, and the ivory ceiling, and between the avocado green and the neutral buff color on adjoining walls.

I thought I'd give painter's tape another chance, this time with a brand I'd never tried before:

I've heard good things about it from people in the 'hood, and there are other blogs (like Young House Love, and they are paintin' fools over there), who've said it was the real deal. So I taped up the soffits at the ceiling line and at the lower edge too, because I wanted to keep the ivory ceiling color under the soffit to reflect light onto the workspaces. So, an inside corner and an outside corner. 

On the soffit over the sink side of the kitchen I taped up before I got out the paint, and in a previous post I gave you a quick and dirty on the process with the cell phone camera: 

What happened when I took the tape down?

The ceiling line (inside corner) looked better than the soffit line (outside corner). But even then, there were still tiny glitches here and there that annoyed me. It annoyed me enough that I went back to my usual way of thinking, "I could paint it by HAND better than that tape, pffffft!"

So, in the spirit of rebellion, getting the hell on with the job, and comparison, I did the soffit over the stove/microwave on the other side of the kitchen free-handed. And then I took a close look at them both. While I've been pretty confident in the past with my free-hand painting, it wasn't "as good as" the painter's tape. It was very close to the same on the inside corner, but definitely not better on the outside corner. 

Because I was less satisfied with my free-hand painting compared to the Frog Tape, I decided that I would paint over the edges with the ceiling color and start over on that side of the kitchen 

Slapping the ceiling paint on over the edges: 

Now it's taped up for another try (yes, the green paint is thin in areas): 

This time I tried a tip that you find various places around the internet, which is to paint along the edge of the tape with the existing color FIRST. It's supposed to seal what little glitches or uneven places are in the tape seal. 

Another layer of ceiling paint: 

And then layers of the darker color go on: 

Results?

The second try with the Frog Tape, using the advice to paint the edge with the existing color first, was significantly better than just free hand, AND better than just taping and painting with the new color. 

Was it perfect? Still, no. There are places with tiny bleed-outs and a couple of other places where the tape failed to ride a small bump perfectly. Here's one view of the outside corner. Keep in mind this is a close up, and these bleeds are 1/8" or less in length: 

While it was bugging my inner perfectionist, my inner common sense gal (who's been known to smack me when I need it) was saying in no uncertain terms "NO ONE is going to look at this THAT closely. QUIT WHILE YOU'RE AHEAD." 

So I did. I am also not going back to redo the soffit over the sink except for a few small lengths, to touch up. Now that the soffits are done, I have to repair some cracks in the other walls before I can continue painting. 

Ta-DAH! (pay no attention to the missing light coverplate)

In all my previous projects, the painter's tape I used was 3M Scotch, aka "the blue stuff." I never liked it, and the product was to blame for many of my past acts of blasphemy. It stuck to itself, fell off the wall if the humidity was too high, and bled or wicked too much to really make a clean line. That's where I got in the habit of painting free-handed in the first place.

If you gave me a choice between using the 3M brand blue tape and painting edges by hand, I would pick doing it by hand. It you gave me the choice of free-hand and Frog Tape, I would give Frog Tape the (slightly) better edge. Haaaaaaa, see what I did there? Sorry. I couldn't stop myself. 

Checking my experience through online research, it looks as though Frog Tape does rate better than others in comparisons (like in this Good Housekeeping test here). It also appears common that professional painters with years of practice forgo painter's tape entirely and paint free-hand around ceilings, baseboards, trim, and moulding. I've also had some luck for short lengths, especially along baseboards, using the edge of a wide putty knife (very clean and rust free) to get a straight edge against the wood trim. I also use a small artist's brush with short bristles and a flat head to fix tiny errors. That's probably how I'll go back to those tiny errors that are still visible from standing on the floor. Outside edges are really hard to get sharp, and the tape did a better job on the inside (ceiling) line.

My big caveat? 

Surface is everything. Even if you have good-quality painter's tape adhered properly to the wall, if the wall is textured even a little bit or has little bumps or hiccups, you're not going to get a perfect line. And if you live in an older house, you're a lot less likely to have perfect, smooth drywall. Heck, you might not even have drywall. For that reason, I truly believe that painter's tape, no matter what the brand, has its limitations in the older home. I wish it weren't so but I think that's why, in the end, there is no "perfect" painter's tape, and no single answer on how to get crisp paint edges. 

Bummer. 

Disclaimer: I bought the Frog Tape with my own cash. I didn't accept any compensation, payment, or promotion from the company that manufactures the product, and the views here are solely my own.

Retro Garden Design

When I moved into the little Cape Cod that is now the topic of this blog, I not only had to have the dreamer's eye for the neglected house but also for the neglected property. I hesitate to call it a yard, let alone a garden.

Since I have pretty much a blank slate, I've been collecting ideas for a front yard garden and back yard patio area, but wanted it to match the the house, or at least pay homage to the era in which it was built, the late 1930s.

There's not a ton of easy-access information about retro garden design. And by easy, I mean stuff I can Google in my jammie-pants while drinking a glass of cheap red.

One book I found mentioned was The House Beautiful Book of Gardens and Outdoor Living, by Joseph E. Howland. Of course I found it over on the source of all things retro, Retro Renovation, and you can catch the original source of the mention here. A commenter mentioned the book, published in 1958, and I found used copies still available on Amazon. I found mine for just a few dollars because the binding was falling apart. It made me wince slightly less when I was guiltily forcing it into the scanner to get images (eek). Unlike today's lush looking garden publications, a significant amount of the book's photography is in black and white.

I found the book surprising. Not surprising in how dated or "vintage" the ideas looked or seemed, but by how recognizable, reasonable, and fresh they looked.

Residential garden design featured in the book by Midcentury landscape architect Thomas D. Church.

See the very Atomic age amoeba shape in the center of the path/patio? The combination of naturalistic elements (the stones) with more manicured spaces (the lawn)? The flow of outdoor space into indoor space? We do this all the time now; it's "natural" to us. In 1958, these elements were revolutionary. It's a testament to the Modern design movement that this book, published 54 years ago, now seems full of garden designs that are not only plausible to us, but still look attractive and noteworthy. The book also encompasses ideas that we think of as "contemporary" like water features, Japanese garden design aesthetics, and the use of annuals.

Fabric Finds: Make Your Own

Have you heard of Spoonflower?
Apparently I am late to the party, but I'm so glad I discovered it. It's a website where you can design your own fabric, have it printed, and then order yardage.

Wait, what?

Let's go over that again.

You can design your own fabric, have it printed, and then order yardage.

I KNOW. Isn't that the coolest thing you've ever heard? And LOOK:

Somebody just said: "I'd like a retro print in lime, coral, and aqua, with little TVs and big loopy circles." And that's what they got! This one is called, "Say Goodnight Gracie," which is the best fabric name EVER.

I bumped into Spoonflower accidentally and coincidentally when I was in the middle of some angst about fabric choices concerning curtains. I like to make my own, because then you get something that's made to fit the window, and in the exact design that looks best (within reason. I've yet to do pinch pleats, though I'm considering learning).

I'm very picky. Pattern, color, whatever. It HAS to be just right. And I have this theory that you really have to love the fabric you're sewing with, or you're not going to love your house when you look at those windows. I detest choosing fabric on the "well, this was the best I could find" proposition. ARGH. And where I live, there's a lot of that. Not a lot to choose from.

Right now we're about at the half way mark with my kitchen. The cabinets are completely re-finished and the new appliances and countertop are in.  I guess I should say the most expensive and time consuming things are in (you'll get an update sometime in the future). But at some point in time, paint and curtains are going to come to my 1970s era kitchen built on to my 1930s house.

But the curtains on the sliding glass door are some sad, limp, dirt beige tab tops from Target. They've stayed there for lack of time to address the situation, and a continuing need for some privacy from the backyard neighbors. Here's a photo. Please excuse the quality, but I guess "before" photos are supposed to be bad, right?

I see these every morning, and they make me want to go back to bed.

Let's get this out of the way: I have something against tab top curtains. I've NEVER liked them. They just look like the manufacturer was too cheap to make a proper casing for the curtain panel. I know that's not the point. The point is that it's a stylistic choice but one that, for whatever reason, my eye rebels against every time I see them.

Unexpected Guests On the Doorstep

Just as I am brand new to home ownership, I am also just a new little fishy swimming in the giant blogosphere. I've got some modest (Hi, Dad!) blog traffic and I'm still trying to figure out what my page should look like, and trying to "find my voice as a writer," though I suspect my voice is coming from inside my head and in that very "get some help" sort of way....

Anyway.

The blogosphere paid me a visit on Wednesday in the craziest and best way possible. Did I mention I'm insecure about this blogging thing still?

Anyway. (Note to "voice:" work on transitions)

The best thing about the best blogs is that they are stories with chapters that come out, bit by bit, and you become absorbed into them. You want to know what happens NEXT.

One of those blogs is DIY Diva, and I found Kit's blog months ago when I was still in the home shopping phase simply by Googling "do it yourself." I figured whatever kind of house I could afford, I was going to be doing a bit of it.

As blog categories go, she is in a different part of the family tree of "house blogs" from mine, I think. I am more of a historic home, paint-some-rooms, isn't-this-vintage-whackadoodle-cute, sort of blog. I'm not going to over-reach at this point. If you've seen me with a drill, you know why.

Kit, however, is not "do it yourself" in the sense of spray painting a few crappy garage sale picture frames, though there's a time and place for that sort of thing (hi, everybody!)

THIS is Kit with a drill:

Stand back. This is DIY Diva.

In the years she's maintained her blog, she's rehabbed one old house, bought another and added a major addition to it, and has drawn up plans to build a third. Oh, and she became a licensed general contractor. Then there are the miniature donkeys. She calls herself a power tool wielding badass. She once wrote a post (with diagrams) about the disintegration of her work jeans.

I'm not sure whether I want to go grab a beer with her or HIRE her. I mean, damn, girl.

For awhile now I'd been following DIY Diva as she went looking for just the right piece of land to build her dream house, her Hillside Cottage, as she calls it.

On Monday she posted a real bombshell: she'd gone and bought a 150-year-old farmhouse and 6 acres. Not for the building of Hillside Cottage, but just because foreclosure auctions are the sort of trouble which a woman who collects power tools for fun and recreation would get herself into. You can read about that here.

I was moved by this. That is my kind of crazy. I am three for three in buying a house based purely on emotion. Or gut instinct. Lack of a grip on reality. Whatever.

So along with all the other friends, family, other bloggers, and whosomevers that were commenting on her surprise purchase I commented for the first time on her site:

"I’ve been lurking around your site for some time, mostly in profound appreciation of your general kick-assery. Don’t second guess yourself on this, no matter what. I did the same thing with my house. I walked in the front door and said, “Oh, yes. This is it.” The real estate agent thought I’d gone ’round the bend (and I probably had), but it ended up being the place I signed for. Wish you the best in your unexpected adventure!"

To which Kit responded:

"The Unexpected Adventure — Laura, you just named the next 3 years (okay, 5 years) of my life. I love it"

And I'm thinking, cool, she seems nice too.

Wednesday turned out to be one of those days that other single working mothers will recognize--I was wretchedly tired. It was a packing lunch boxes/finding socks for little boys/putting on mascara/get in the car NOW! kind of morning, all underpinned by the distinctly nagging dread that not only had I forgotten to pay some bill, I was hopelessly behind in the laundry, and what in the HELL was I thinking getting a divorce, going back to work, and buying an old house all in two years? Self-doubt never hits the single mom in little bits and pieces. It's more like the total shit-storm, all at once. I pulled out of the driveway looking at the tired paint and the tired yard and just felt distinctly defeated by the enormity of it. And then I went to work.

I came home from work early because I also had to work a turnaround night shift, headachey and dangerously crabby. I checked my blogs, and realized that Kit had posted something titled, "An Unexpected Adventure: The Extended Version." Nice, I thought. She must have liked the ring of that......so I clicked on the link.

And she'd blogged:

"I know, I know, I kind of dropped a little bomb in the middle of the “Hey I’m going to buy some vacant land and build a garage on it” party yesterday. I have to start by thanking all of you for the support, laughs, words of encouragement, and– specifically Laura from Door Step Home– for calling this my Unexpected Adventure instead of my Have You Lost Your Ever-Loving Mind moment."

Gulp.

She'd given me a shout out and a link to my blog, and here I am with no good graphics yet, the place is a mess, and I haven't combed my hair.....

Just THAT was just a good, good thing on an otherwise crappy day. But then I found this comment posted on MY blog, from someone named Gayle:

"I just found your blog via DIY Diva, and I just want to let you know that you CAN do it. I'm a single Mom too, and when I was raising my two kids, we worked on several "distressed" houses (kind words) that remind me of your plumbing travails. Can you say "former homeowner who was too cheap to buy electrical wire, so patched together little pieces with wire nuts and strung them inside the walls."?? So hang in there, and remember to sit back and enjoy your progress so far once in awhile. Your kids will have fun learning how to fix things, and it will all get done eventually, so don't sweat it. Take care."
 
I had no idea the blogosphere dealt in good Karma until Wednesday. And it arrived just in time. So thanks, Gayle and Kit. I needed that.

Blog Review: Retro Renovation

(Note: Periodically I'll do reviews of other blogs that I find useful, informational, inspirational, or cool. After I give 'em a shout-out, I'll add them to the blog roll. This is the first one!)

I bought a 1930's era home, but I did what any 21st Century gal would do about it-- I hopped online and got to browsing the interwebs. What I found was that I am far from the first to hatch a bloglet about home ownership or house renovation, and I definitely won't be the last. I just hope that I'm not the worst! But I don't consider that proliferation of homey-housey blogs a problem. Out there in the blogosphere are hundreds of like-minded souls. It's good to know, while I'm sniffling and trying not to cry about wrecked bathroom tile, there is probably someone else, somewhere, about to put a crowbar through a window, either by tantrum or by accident (I don't judge).

But if you're going to start with retro design blogs, you have to start with Retro Renovation. You'd probably have to end there, too. Launched in 2007 by Pam Kueber as part of her own mid-century remodeling project, the blog is sleek in design and friendly by nature. The feature photo of Pam wielding a cordless drill and wearing a 1950s cocktail dress is all you need to know. This is a woman who comes across like the neighbor down the street who knows all the best junk shops, mixes her martinis strong, and has a dry wit about her obsessions.

 Copyright 2011 Retro Renovation

Source: retrorenovation.com via Laura on Pinterest

We all need a friend who knows how to rock high heels and power tools. Preferably at the same time.

Retro Renovation is a clearing house of information for anything having to do with homes and interior design in the years 1930 to 1970. Vintage steel kitchen cabinets, pinch pleat drapes, era-authentic paint colors, atomic age furnishings--- you name it, Pam's got something to show and tell. And she doesn't just enthuse, either. She shares product links and sources for services. She does her research on the history of the American lifestyle from those decades and relates them in fun ways. I learn something valuable every time I visit her site.

What I admire most about her blog is the tagline, "love the house you're in!" That's pretty revolutionary thinking when we're living in an era of rampant consumerism that markets dissatisfaction with everything so it can sell granite counters and lawn irrigation systems and endless, expensive permutations of keeping up with the Jones'. She casts a smart, critical eye on the raging remodeling trend that might in fact be erasing a very important part of our recent history. While I'm so glad I found my house and it found me, I'm also glad I found Pam for ideas, inspiration, and sources. She'll always be welcome on this doorstep.