The Doors

There are a bunch of quirky things about our apartment, among them the doors to our bedrooms. What follows is way more detail than you or I ever wanted to know about our doors. But I’m giving it to you anyway. Because that’s just the type of generosity (narcissism) this blog is all about. Here’s a picture of them from before we moved in:

There’s definitely something charming about our old, pre-war doors. I don’t really know how old they are, but they’re solid wood and way more interesting to look at than the 60s hollow-core bathroom door. And the wavy-glass windows let a lot of nice light travel through the apartment, which is a big plus since some of our windows provide sweeping views of brick walls and other peoples’ kitchens. But they’d seen their share of sloppy paint jobs, and for a couple of roommates, the glass doors are just a little weird.

Sloppy paint, gloopy hardware

The hardware had all been painted over a bunch of times, and because I like to make things difficult, I decided to take the doors of their hinges and remove all the hardware. Cue the utility knife, paint stripper, putty knife, screwdrivers, and quietly whispered expletives.

Then I boiled it all in water with some dish soap in a specially designated pot I picked up from the thrift store down the street. This is the cheap-o version of the crock-pot method, but it seemed to work just as well. Most of the paint peels off really easily after it’s all cooked for a while, but the little crevices needed some toothbrush persuasion.

I sanded all the pieces lightly and then hit them with a few coats of  Rust-oleum matte black spray paint out on the fire escape. Meanwhile, I was busy painting the doors on our living room floor. It was quite a production.

But after the hardware and doors were back in place, none of that work did anything to solve the privacy issue. The obvious solution would have been some kind of fabric curtain made for french doors, but that all seemed a bit frilly for our place. I’d been planning on using frosted glass window film I’ve seen used many times before and have actually used myself. Usually, I’d recommend it: all it takes to apply is some careful cutting, a spray bottle full of soapy water, and a squeegee. It looks great when it’s up, provides privacy, still lets in light, and most importantly is really easy to remove and doesn’t leave any sticky residue. So I bought some (from Ikea, but Home Depot carries wider rolls for a little more money).

But once I put up a few testers on a couple of the panes to see how it would look, I wasn’t happy with it. Because these doors are individual panes (the old fashioned way, y’all) and the glazing around the panes doesn’t form perfectly straight lines like you might find on a new window, there was no way to get the frosting film perfect. It didn’t look terrible, but I didn’t like the way there were accidental slivers of light around the edges or the air bubbles that formed where an edge wasn’t making direct contact with the glass in some places. And those bubbles really only get worse with time.

So I weighed my options. I went back to curtain solutions but that seemed both a little pricey and I didn’t find any I liked, which would have meant sewing. Which I can do, but it seemed like a lot of effort for something I wasn’t really digging anyway. I researched some aerosol spray-on window frosting that doesn’t actually etch the glass, but I read mixed reviews on how removable it was and it didn’t sound very durable (it-looks-good-as-long-as-you-don’t-touch-it. Ever.). I considered double-stick taping on wallpaper or something, but that would have looked awful unless I did both sides, and even then I’m not convinced it would have looked good. It also would have blocked the light.

I had read a couple years ago about a process of applying fabric to walls using cornstarch– a renter’s alternative to the semi-permanence of wallpaper. So I hopped on the internets and found the original post where I read about it and then was reassured by an Apartment Therapy post on the topic that it would be fine for windows as well.

I decided to hack up one of the fitted sheets that I bought for my dorm’s twin extra-long bed, using one of the test panels of the frosted glass as a guide. I just lightly traced it with a pencil and cut out ten rectangles to fit the panes.

Then I made the paste, which is just regular cornstarch and water. I used two tablespoons of cornstarch dissolved in 1/4 cup of water, and then added it to 2 cups of boiling water. This forms a sort of thin, misty, perverse-looking jelly.

Don’t forget to iron, kids.

Make sure the windows are nice and clean and apply the paste liberally to the back to the fabric. A chip brush might have been more appropriate than my pastry brush (its first use, appropriately, being for something like this instead of food), but it doesn’t matter. Then slap the fabric into place and use a squeegee (or credit card or anything with a hard, straight edge) to squeeze out bubbles and, as it turns out, lots of the paste you just brushed on. Have paper towels on standby. After that’s done, I lightly painted a coat of paste to the front, making sure to cover the entire surface but light enough that it wasn’t gloppy.

The fabric is much more forgiving than the film, as you can see in this side-by-side (fabric on the left, film on the right). I did cut the fabric slightly bigger, but you don’t have to worry about it bubbling around the edges because the fabric will stick to anything.

And here it is today after it all dried overnight. I can report that the starch seems to be holding really well and doesn’t look crusty or weird. And while a couple of the panes could use a re-do with a slightly bigger piece of fabric, I’m happy with how it turned out. Even more privacy than the window film, still lets in light, fully removable, and no harsh chemicals or specialty products. And not counting the previous cost of the window film (about $6 if I remember correctly), the whole project only cost $1.99 for the cornstarch, of which I still have plenty for the next time I whip up a refreshing vat of gravy or remove some errant blood stains. Plus, the project was so easy that we can change it up with a different fabric at some point in the future. But for now, I’m just going to go lounge around naked in my room.

Bedroom Storage Progress

When we first looked at our apartment, I was so distracted by the separate kitchen and the living room larger than a postage stamp that I didn’t even notice the lack of closets. Even the teeniest, tiniest apartments we looked at all had closets, if I recall. So once the real planning started, this dearth of usable storage space raised a few questions. For instance: where do I put all my shit?

We do have one closet, in Eva’s room. But given that her room is quite small, I don’t think it’s fair to use this as a catch-all storage space. I mean, let’s think about all the things you have to store, besides clothing. A vacuum cleaner, a ladder, suitcases, extra linens, spare lightbulbs, oppressive security gates you stripped off your window like a total badass, secrets… and that’s just off the top of my head.

Blessing or curse, my room didn’t come completely devoid of storage. Instead, there was actually the biggest wardrobe imaginable, presumably left by a previous tenant. I think once they realized it wouldn’t fit through the door without being disassembled, they just said “screw it, just leave it here.” That right there is the Ikea PAX wardrobe, measuring in at a whopping 93″ high, 39″ wide, and 2 feet deep. Someone ate their Wheaties.

My first instinct was to get rid of it. It’s so large that it felt kind of oppressive visually and physically, but more importantly it really wasn’t taking advantage of the space in an efficient or logical way. If we’re talking storage, let’s use that whole wall, right? Or at least something less massive-like-it-could-crush-me-in-my-sleep. I knew I could do better.

I considered a few different options. Ikea makes a number of more compact storage units that would have been a great fit on this wall, perhaps using the top to hold some nice-looking storage boxes or something of the sort. Then I thought about removing the doors on the existing unit, building some kind of modular shelving system next to it, and curtaining the entire thing off. I also considered one of those “I’m so post-modern” closets using a plain metal clothing rack, some shelves, maybe a dresser– in a I-don’t-give-a-fuck-but-really-this-is-super-neat-and-curated kind of way.

Like dis

In reality, I’m not freakishly neat enough for much open storage, nor am I really comfortable letting it all hang out like that. I also own more than a dozen hanging garments and my clothes don’t form any sort of subtle, artistic gradient when hung together (more like Plaid threw up all over his friends, Grey and Denim). At the same time, since this storage solution isn’t something that’s likely to extend beyond this apartment, it’s nothing I wanted to spend too much money on in an already tight budget.

So in the end, the best solution was turning lemons into lemonade. I’m saying this optimistically because there’s still a ways to go. But on Sunday, I took a trip (on the ferry! Really fun and pretty!) to my favorite Scandinavian furniture superstore to make that enormous PAX work for me. Before I left, I wrote out a list of everything I’d have to store and tried to find places for almost all of it. Or at least the big stuff. Then I left for Ikea with a very precise plan:

you get the idea

I ain’t no artist, but here they are. The Ikea PAX unit comes in several sizes, 20″ wide, 29″ wide, and 39″ wide. The existing unit is 39″ wide, and I planned to buy a new 29″ unit, which would have fit on the wall with a few inches to spare. But for no apparent reason, Ikea doesn’t sell a door for the 29″ unit. What’s with that?

So in the middle of the Ikea, I was at a crossroads. Go with the 29″ unit anyway and either make my own door/go back to the curtain solution, or go with the 20″ unit and sacrifice 9″ of storage. After about 30 seconds of strenuous deliberation, I went with the 20″ and got everything home delivered yesterday.

So when I got home from Ikea, I got to work. One of the things I really disliked about this thing was the color. I think the trick to dealing with really massive storage like this is to visually minimize as much as possible, but this thing couldn’t have possibly stuck out more. So I removed the doors and all the components, all of which I’m selling on Craigslist except the clothing bar. Then I sanded, primed (2 coats!) and painted.

Unfortunately the new PAX was broken upon arrival, so Ikea should call me tomorrow to arrange a replacement. And despite my best efforts, things didn’t exactly go as planned with the drawer components– I didn’t account for the placement of the door hinges, so only four of the five drawers actually fit in the end. I might rearrange things a little bit (definitely a shelf above the rod, for starters) since it’s important to squeeze every last usable inch out of this thing, but for now I’m just glad my clothing storage no longer looks like this:

The shame!

Yes, those Harry & David boxes were storing my socks and undies. Deal wid it.

More to come.

Oriental Rugs in Modern Spaces

One of the home design-y things that freaks me out a little is rugs. Whether it’s ultra-mod FLOR carpet tiles or a swanky shag, rugs lend an undeniable homeyness to rooms and definitely have the potential to make a big visual impact. But I also take issue with many affordable contemporary rugs in much the same way I dislike that art you can buy from Bed Bath and Beyond or even Ikea: mediocrity masquerading as modernity, perhaps. But rugs can also get pretty pricey, and it’s not the sort of thing you can easily swap out unless you have a place to store and extra rug or two when they aren’t in use. Which we don’t.

Which leads me to my aunt and uncle. Aside from being amazing people, they’re also incredible designers. Every time I go to their house in Chicago, I’m always completely in awe of their choices, their furniture, and their upgrades. Through the several houses they’ve lived in during my lifetime, they’ve always maintained a style that is both completely beautiful, complementary to the architecture, and so thoroughly them, and who wouldn’t admire that? They’re big collectors of both big and small, but the big collections that are most evident upon entry to their home are mid-century modern furniture, 20th century Abstract Expressionist and contemporary art (among lots of other really, really cool art), and antique oriental rugs.

When I think of modern spaces, oriental rugs aren’t exactly the first things that leap to mind. But my aunt and uncle’s rugs fit seamlessly into the rest of their particular aesthetic, and I’ve always thought they were completely stunning in their home (though I’m not sure I would appreciate them as much if surrounded by more traditional furniture, despite that they’re beautiful pieces all on their own). But really, once you start paying attention, oriental rugs aren’t actually all that rare in modern spaces, and when used effectively I think they’re great.

My aunt and uncle's old house in Metropolitan Home

And again

And again. Is there anything not to love about this bedroom?

From Apartment Therapy. Note the rug.

From Apartment Therapy

Apartment Therapy

And, you guessed it, Apartment Therapy

Inspired by these examples (plus a whole bunch from Dwell Magazine that I didn’t want to scan), I pitched the idea to Eva, who I’m not sure was too impressed. Because let’s face it, there’s a lot of really, really fugly oriental rugs out there too. Like, a whole lot.

Not really my style.

So I decided to start in my bedroom. I think the trick to sorting through the whole mess of available oriental rugs is to establish some criteria and figure out what you like.

1. When I badgered my uncle to teach me about oriental rugs, he told me the most important thing to consider is color. While this might seem obvious, it’s really good advice because these rugs tend to have such interesting designs that sometimes you can get so caught up in the patterns that you forget to focus on the palette.

2. Many of the rugs I’ve been attracted to have a very “tribal” kind of vibe, with strong geometric shapes and comparatively simple design. However, if you look at the third picture especially (of the bedroom), that rug is very geometric (not floral) without being at all simple or straightforward. So there’s a lot of wiggle room.

3. Go old. While true antique oriental rugs can run well into the tens of thousands–check out the top floor of ABC Carpet and Home next time you’re in Union Square– I definitely didn’t want a new rug. Part of what makes these rugs so pretty is that they show some wear, they have some history. You can’t go out and buy it from Ikea and nobody else will have the same one.

So I went scouring craigslist (for months, literally, before we moved in) looking for rugs. And there was a lot out there that sucked, but there were some that didn’t. And over and over again as the weeks went on, I kept stumbling upon this one ad for this rug in the East Village. Listed as a “semi-antique,” I liked the design but kept feeling like it wasn’t quite exactly what I was looking for. The seller also posted a link to a website that had all their rugs, and I liked their taste and bookmarked it.

Fast forward to mid-May, the price has dropped $75 and the seller announces that she’s clearing out her inventory to move onto more lucrative work. And I realized, I didn’t really know quite what I was looking for, and isn’t the whole point of buying things like this that if you’re flexible and keep an open mind, you might find something great that that’s nothing like what you set out for?

Here she is

Like I said, I’m kind of scared of rugs and I’ve never owned or lived anywhere with anything remotely like this. But I do think I really like it! It’s not as tribal-y as I was looking for, but I do like how geometric it is. And I like the colors even though I’m not really a red person, although it’s more tomato colored than that deep red-red you usually see on oriental rugs. It’s technically a runner, but at almost 4′ wide by 11′ long, it fits the dimensions and layout of my room (more on that in another post) really well without covering too much of our pretty wood floors. And since I’m not too concerned with sticking to one style but rather incorporating things I like in a cohesive way, I think this rug offers enough colors and interest that I can build off of it without too much worry.

What do you think? Have I lost my marbles, or do you like what you see?

Fjellse

A wardrobe isn’t the only thing I bought at Ikea over the weekend, I also picked up a bed! As glamorous as the mattress on the floor was, I was really, really tired of it. I’ve seen pictures of spaces with mattresses on the floor that look amazing, but it wasn’t for me.

It’s called FJELLSE, and at $50 (plus another $50 for the slats, not pictured), it couldn’t really be beat. But those of you that have been reading along or know me could probably figure out that this basic pine bed frame won’t stay a basic pine bed frame for long. Oooo anticipation.

EDIT: To see what became of the FJELLSE bed after a hearty round of DIY, click here.

EDIT: For those of you who stumbled over here looking for a review or information on the Fjellse bed, please read the comments on this post! The long and short of it is, I like it. Don’t be afraid to ask more questions, either– I’ll try to answer them promptly.

Oz Art

Eleven days since the last post? Seriously? I’ve been mostly out of town for the last week, but that doesn’t mean nothing’s been going on since I put together that bed (which is still as plain-jane-pine-bed as could be, but I have a plan!).

Last weekend I went to visit Eva on her home turf in New Jersey and we went to a couple flea markets. We didn’t find anything big like furniture, but Eva did spot a very old copy of L. Frank Baum’s The Wizard of Oz.

I’ve always loved Oz– like most people, the 1939 film was an enormous part of my childhood. When I was little, I liberated my dad’s 50s edition of the book from my grandparent’s house, but it wasn’t until this year that I actually read the original text in its entirety for a research paper. At the time I bought the HarperCollins 100 year anniversary edition of Oz, which has all the original W.W. Denslow illustrations in full color– and they’re beautiful! And at $17, it’s crazy cheap for such a beautiful book with color on every single one of the 261 pages.

Old on left, new on right

Even though it’s copyright 1903 (the original copyright is 1900), it was actually printed in the 1930s with 8 of the original 24 full-page illustrations in full color. And even though I like the extremely bright colors of my new edition, I really love the richer colors of these 80 year old pages.

The old book isn’t really in the best shape (probably why it was only $30, but I still think it’s likely worth much more), which was sort of perfect. Three of the illustrations had already come loose and were tucked inside the book, so they were basically asking to be framed. I wouldn’t frame something like this just because I like the book, but I think these drawings are so cool because they have these awesome pop colors that seem totally incongruous with the time period they came out of. And I love Oz. That too.

I decided to back them with some plain off-white stationary paper I already had, which has a nicer texture than a regular piece of printer paper. And I like the look of the rough edges, so no matting here.

I got extra lucky that the three illustrations that happened to be detached were also some of my favorites of the book! When Dorothy, the Scarecrow, Toto, and the Tin Woodsman first meet the Cowardly Lion; when the travelers first enlist the help of the mice (a great scene that’s never been adapted in any of the film iterations– they save the Lion from the poppies! How cool is that?); and when they first enter the Emerald City.

I don’t really have a place picked out for them yet– much like 90% of the other art that’s sitting in a pile waiting for the right wall space– but I’m excited about them. And at $45 for the entire project, including $15 for the three RIBBA frames from IKEA, it’s already worth it.