BREAKING OUT, VESPERS, CIGARETTES AND THE IMPACT OF LOCKDOWN ON MY INTERIOR DESIGN PROCESS

It may not feel like you know where you are going but actually deep down inside you do.

There comes a time in your life when you just want to do your own thing. You are tired of listening to everyone’s advice, what is perceived as good interior design or bad interior design. You want to break out. You want to find your own voice. Your own sense of being. Apply your own lens. You want to operate beyond just understanding or visioning or even doing. You want to get to the next level. You can feel this is what you are supposed to do. You know you are bigger than what you seem to be doing.

I wanted to find freedom in myself, in my mind, in my thinking, figure out who I was. So, I rebelled. 

Vespers and cigarettes

In my final year of school (which by the way placed my academic record in the sewer), I bunked 33 days of school. My friend, Karen would meet me with her vesper at the stop sign just down the road from my house. We would then motor down to her house and hang out with our friend Mandy, or whoever was keen to join us. We would hang out in her bedroom when her folks were at work. We would smoke cigarettes (sorry Mum), speak about philosophy, discuss boys, listen to music and whatever took our fancy that day. 

Some days, I just told my Mum I wasn’t going to school. I was just straight with her (thanks for being so awesome Mum). Other days, I picked up my bag during a school period and just walked out the school gates. Our house was a 15 minute walk from the school so it didn’t take me long to get home. No one even asked me where I was going. I had been a model student: I was a prefect; editor of the school newspaper (a bit amateurish but I learnt a lot); first team debater (we were good); played first team hockey (great team player, terrible ball sense – you can imagine with a limpy run but I made the team); Miss Personality in our school pageant (had a lot of fun with the girls); and I even wrote our house play that year (not as a good as I thought it was at the time). Everyone just assumed I had a reason to leave. No one had any reason to doubt me or question why I was doing something.

I had a very strict father (I am grateful today Dad, thank you) and the more he tried to pull me right, the more I rebelled. I was so angry on so many levels. I was angry that I didn’t have two beautiful legs. I always felt left behind. I was tired of people staring at my legs. I was tired of when a boy liked me, he got teased because he liked “Peg Leg”. I was tired of no matter how well I did at school, it felt like I was being pushed to do better. I hated being the first kid to be picked up from a party – if I was allowed to go which wasn’t very often. I was tired of being shouted at. Tired of being told what to do. So, I just found a way to do what I wanted to. I needed to get over myself.

Moving house and turquoise carpets

We moved house during this phase in my life. It was an old house, in a good neighbourhood. We were getting out of the permanent force neighbourhood (my Dad had been in the air force all these years). It was a big upgrade. It was an old house with the most spacious interiors. A u-shape. There was also space for my Mum’s dress-making business. 

My sister and I had these grand spacious bedrooms with our own bathrooms. I had the old main bedroom with an en-suite bathroom. It was nothing fancy. My carpet was turquoise. The cupboards were old wood veneer with cheese light fittings. Matching patterning turquoise tiles in the bathrooms. But there was space. Lots and lots of space. I was in heaven. It didn’t matter that the interiors and carpets were thread-bare or the tiles were old, or the splash backs were hideous or the cupboards worn. I didn’t see any of it. 

I saw only the good

I saw the big oak tree in the middle of the garden. I saw the high pine ceilings. I saw the gorgeous A-line detail of that ceiling with the beam detailing. I loved the flow of the house and the different spaces to use for different tasks. I loved the privacy of the house. My Dad would go to his study and tinker there for hours. My Mom was always in her sewing room. My sister still had an enormous garden to prance around in. I could watch her for hours as she choreographed being the star of her show, outside the window in my bedroom. She actually had the prettiest interior design and room in the house. Built-in toy boxes in meranti wood. Hand printed roses on the walls. A long full-length mirror between two single beds. She saved up enough money to buy linen for those beds which really impressed me. 

My interior furniture did improve somewhat in that house. Still second hand but I got a double bed with pine side tables that my parents had bought off my godmother and an old super wood dressing table. My white tin desk remained though, with the wooden slated dining room chair. I still lay for hours on my patchy turquoise carpet in my new sunny spot also next to the cupboard (where I still had a few Sylvester Stallone posters stuck up on the inside) in front of the window. 

My Mum and I also convinced my Dad to allow me to get a job when I turned 16 and so now, finally, I had a bit of money to buy some things for my room. 

I was shifting

Why, did I feel like I did? I asked myself. Here finally, in this space, I could do things. I had a little job. I could earn the money to do what I wanted. I loved what I saw. I still sought my sunny spot. I saw the potential. I could visualise it. I had dreamed of being able to do what I wanted with my interior design in this space. But I felt empty. Lost. I still had my yellow curtains hanging in the space, but my bed had a different duvet cover. 

The interiors didn’t feel right. I knew it. I knew it affected me. I had the power to change it. But I didn’t. Instead I lost myself in my novels and I bunked school. I still stayed in my room, but this was different. I was trying to get to the next level and didn’t know how. I didn’t even know why I felt the way I did. I was shifting but I didn’t know it yet.

We have all been through enough as individuals and we are responsible for our actions. 

I made certain decisions that year when I finished matric because when I think back, it was the best I could do. There were consequences of my actions yes, but to be frank I did what I needed to do for myself. For my own sanity. Sometimes you just need to do what you need to do. Even when it doesn’t’ make sense to anyone. I believe when you are true to yourself, you are true to the world. Always act on the basis of fact. Always do good when it is in your power to do so. 

Enough already

The truth be told. I feel rebellious again. I feel that part of me rising up just like that young woman, who was restless and knew the next phase was coming. I was being prepared for what I still needed to learn then in my life to apply in my field today. I was finding my voice. I am here again. This lockdown has really started to impact my creativity lately. I have a strong mind. I know how to manage my space. I know what I need. But enough is enough. Time just melts into time. Task melts into task. I have always found a way to do what I needed to. But I don’t think I am the only one this time. I think we are all in a place where we know what is right for ourselves, our sanity, our livelihoods, and our family. 

It may not feel like you know where you are going but actually deep down inside you do.

Love from the yellow room