I have a love/hate relationship with the clean modern aesthetic. I can’t help but be swept away by all the beautiful images on social media of crisp white walls, black window frames and light oak floors—that Scandinavian look that everyone is doing right now. It’s stunning, and I love it when I see it. But truth be told—I don’t want to live in shades of white.
I am a colour kinda girl. Always have been. In every rented space since University, my walls have donned each colour of the rainbow (a landlord’s dream when I moved out, to be sure). I could spend hours in the paint store—gently gliding my fingertips across the glorious array of paint swatches, lost in thought of how the moments of my life would look against a backdrop of romantic reds or lush greens. Colour equalled possibility, and white—the opposite.
Fast forward 20 years, and I have bid farewell to those fun rented spaces with girlfriends. I am living in a real house with people that I made and a husband whose idea of tasteful is CC-40 on CC-20. I have won some hard-fought battles, like the yellow pantry and the almost-black hallway, but for the most part I have had to concede that sometimes subtle can be good.
Actually, my favourite room in the house is my daughters’ bathroom. I intentionally created a light and airy space with white subway tile, delicate accents and sea salt walls. I know—what came over me? And most of the time I love walking by this room and seeing the light pouring in, illuminating the tranquil vibes. But now that summer has run its course and the kids have spent their days making mud pies and running through the woods in their bare feet—this calm clean space has become a wild and rustic dumping ground for sand, pine needles and grass. Nothing screams defeat like a freshly disinfected bathroom covered in muddy fingerprints and sopping wet clothes. All.The.Time. And for a moment the old me thinks “This never would have happened if the walls were Hale Navy!”
So while I may have matured and learned to appreciate the subtle beauty of white over the years, it looks like my lifestyle is still better suited to splashy walls and patterned furniture to camouflage all of life’s little fingerprints.
And that, my friends—is why it’s not easy being clean. Or maybe why it’s so important to have a laundry tub…?