I have always been drawn to cautionary tales, where the mistakes of others serve as a warning for us to avoid making similar errors in our own lives. Today, I find myself in a position where I must admit to a design decision that did not quite pan out as expected. This topic has been on my mind a lot lately, as it has been a point of discussion among my friends. So, here is a tale of my own design mishap, a dose of “blogger Schadenfreude” for you all to enjoy. If my missteps bring you joy, then consider this your lucky day. While I may feel a bit foolish, every design failure is a valuable lesson learned. Risks are taken, mistakes are made, but the key is to grow and evolve from them.
2020 – Our excitement knew no bounds as we finally entered escrow on our new home. During the lockdown in the mountain house, known for its neutral palette, the persistent question of “why doesn’t our house have any color” echoed in our ears.
2021 – Upon our move to Portland and while temporarily residing in a nearby rental, I began designing the kids’ rooms. Eager to dive into the fun side of things and avoid dwelling on the never-ending renovation process, I involved my daughter, Elliot, in the design process. Elliot has a keen eye for design, color, and pattern, and she was thrilled to be a part of it. We embarked on this journey together, and it was an absolute delight for me. She is so persuasive and enthusiastic, making it difficult for me to say no. Despite our differences in taste (unicorns and fairies were a hard pass for me), we both shared a love for color and pattern. Little did I know that her tastes would evolve so quickly, as she often reminds me now: “I was six, Mom. Who lets a 6-year-old make a long-term decision?” (She’s 9 1/2 now).
