Of all the things a home should be, it should probably be a reflection of the person who lives there. For instance, it’s in the best interest of little people to keep things low to the ground. A drug dealer’s door might sport a glimmering array of deadbolts and locks. Serial killers deserve an attractive place to display and maintain their weaponry. And so on. First off, these personal touches are good conversation starters. “My, what a dazzling collection of cleavers,” the observant guest might note, eliciting a bout of friendly chit-chat. “So sharp and so shiny!”
Beyond that, I like the idea that if a gypsy were to break into my house, they’d understand some things about me just by looking around. A detective could work up a fairly accurate profile of my personality. A famous person might think, “this person is dope,” and take a load off until I got home. But the thieving vagabond, the investigator, Martha Stewart—all these intruders might mistakenly assume that I’m humble and modest. Disfigured, perhaps, or just afraid or confused by reflective surfaces. This is because the only mirror in the whole apartment, until recently, was the front of the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. As a reflection of who I am—somebody who can occupy days in front of a mirror, subsisting solely off the nourishing power of my own beauty—my apartment was doing a pretty half-assed job.
Adding insult to injury was the sad vintage paper holder we discussed a few posts ago, awkwardly placed above the newly hacked kitchen shelf and next to the Hang-It-All. Refresh your memory, it’s been a minute:
To remedy the general lack of mirrors and this weirdness going on in my kitchen, I picked up this little vintage mirror at Meeker Avenue Flea Market for about 30 smackers, pleasingly rendered in the fleshy shade of a band-aid.
In a shockingly uncharacteristic move, I decided NOT to spray paint it, but instead used regular latex paint that I had leftover from the bathroom, Benjamin Moore’s Raccoon Fur. Partially because it’s an adorable name for a paint color, but mostly because hand-painting just seemed more in the homespun spirit of this filthy old mirror.
Take the paper holder down, put a mirror up… voila, an entryway.
It turns out it’s really nice to be able to check yourself out before your walk out the door, especially now that it’s cold as hell and all that layering gives you more opportunities to look a hot mess.
I also dragged this little $1.29 IKEA BORRIS doormat from outside the door into the kitchen. Particularly because it’s winter and the ground is all kinds of nasty, I’m trying to get back into the no-shoes-indoors habit and this seemed like a nice way to collect them.
Oh, and the coffee area got a little upgrade too, thanks to this substantial acrylic tray from my grandparents’ house. My grandmother loved nearly anything acrylic (the lucite nesting tables in my living room are also originally from her house), and her collection of 60s-mod acrylic servingware is supercool. Most of it’s too big to fit in my cabinets, but this tray finally found a perfect spot and function right here. By the way, anybody have a recommendation for a tiny, relatively inexpensive, and nice-lookng coffee maker? Because that little $10 Walgreens do-hickey has seen better days.
The kitchen. Getting sexier by the minute.