Good Morning.
When I was having lunch with my granddaughter visiting from Chicago, I made the comment that if I built a house, the inside would look pretty much like the Italian bistro. The exterior would be a barn, but the interior would have the same vibe as the restaurant, minus the tables and chairs and about a fourth of the size. No sleek ranch or formal Colonial for me. I am neither sleek nor formal.
We'll start with the high ceilings and beams. There are different shades of paint to accent them, sort of a dark green here and there if I recall correctly. There are big round lights strung across the room, the kind you see at a used car place or a Christmas tree lot and I would certainly want those all year long. The other lighting is sconces and hanging things and none of them match. Excellent. The clay-colored walls are heavily textured, like you could snag a sweater if you brushed up against them. Perfect. On one long wall there are huge posters of Italian people doing stuff, but any large pieces of art would work well. On another wall there are windows with tinted glass that separate the dining area from the bar. A third wall is lined with regular windows, big ones that let in a lot of light, and the fourth separates the main dining area from another one to hold over- flow customers on a busy day or night. I'd put a couple of bedrooms and a bathroom or two in that section.
The floors are stained concrete, my first choice for what to have underfoot although my knees would not agree with my head on that one. My second option would be wide-plank wood, but no wall to wall carpet. My oriental rugs with the edges gnawed off by several beloved dogs would look great on any natural surface and my mish mash of furniture would be fine. The restaurant was obviously carefully designed, but the look is what I'd call Modern Salvage, like the designer went around to junk yards, flea markets, and architectural salvage outlets and had some interesting pieces refinished and painted. I would leave them weathered and distressed. A house is supposed to reflect its owner, see paragraph one.
I would have great dinner parties in my barn. I have a dining table that seats eight but I'd want something bigger and one idea would be to get an old jury table for twelve and throw a variety of chairs around it - Hitchcock, wicker, Queen Anne, who knows. I'd be trying to recreate the atmosphere I saw in a magazine a few years ago where a family in Virginia or Kentucky or somewhere hosted Thanksgiving dinner in their horse barn. It was, of course, a really neat horse barn with horses that were pampered like royalty. A table or probably tables were lined up down the middle, covered with table cloths and nicely appointed as one would expect of horsey people, but on either side there were stalls occupied by gorgeous animals who observed two dozen American citizens feasting away. That's what I'd be going for in my barn house, minus the horses, but maybe I'd have a hay bale or two with some books on them.
The kitchen would be part of this big, open room and I'd have copper pots hanging around, probably not polished or maybe they would be. I haven't decided yet. I'd have painted cabinets but not white. Some of the cabinets would have glass inserts or maybe even chicken wire. The bedrooms would have the only drapes in the house, something like natural burlap or gauze or a combination of both. The bathroom would have a walk in shower with handcrafted tile and grab bars made of old plumbing pipe. If I have to have grab bars, they need to be interesting.
The restaurant should install a fireplace because no interior anything should be without one. And now if you'll excuse me I need to have coffee in my real life living room, but fair warning to my family: I'm thinking of hosting Thanksgiving in my garage.
Best regards,
Elisabeth
Comments