Our loft is full of lovely modern amenities in a historic building, but it was also full of beige. Many shades of beige. They were artfully applied and hinting at historic, but they were still beige.
I don’t do beige.
There’s something maddeningly non-committal about it. It forgoes a look that’s interesting by trying to work with everything. I’ll go on record preferring mint green-tiled fifties bathrooms to modern tan porcelain. It’s just the way I’m wired. But there are certain realities we had to consider. There’s the open-plan living area that needs to be a single color palette, for one. Then there’s the reality that we’ll probably sell in a few years, which nixes anything distractingly crazy. Creamy white seemed like the simple way to go. White, it turns out, is complicated. There are a million subtle variations and undertones the untrained eye scarcely sees in a sample coat. And there was a white in my head I could never seem to match to a color card. What I didn’t want was an art gallery. No stark, sterile whites or overly crisp edges. I wanted a white we could actually live in. A white that was less magazine photo and more casual dinner party. A white that said, “Come, settle in,” and not, “Please don’t touch the art.” I wanted two parts Design Sponge, one part Tennessee Williams, whatever that even means. With six sample pots and this living room post as a reference guide, I finally chose a shade. I’ve spent every moment since doing whole-apartment painting. Stay tuned for the (eventual) after.