Renovation Alienation

So I've become mildly obsessed of late over DIY & HGTV offerings. I am not sure what it is about renovations, but I guess given the circumstances of my own life lately, I've become consumed with the concept of restoration.

Instead of Netflix, I've been binging on Love or List It, Flip or Flop, and of course Property Brothers, Ah...the Scott twins... Such pulchritude, such manly excellence...such height. I freely admit I'm a sucker for a tall dude. I'm probably more like Drew in personality, but ah...Jonathan. There is just something about Jonathan. Even his name is cool, Jonathan "Silver" Scott. I vowed right then and there, if ever I got the chance to wed Mr. Scott, I would affect a similar name change. Why be Jill A Last Name (ha...fat chance I'm going to give you my surname) when I could be Jill Topaz Scott, or maybe and this is a stretch...Jill London Blue Topaz Scott! Jill Sapphire Scott? How cool a name is that?

It was around this time of pursuing alternate identities, I realized I was entering the scary world of complete fan obsession absorption. It culminated in my subconscious late one night. I dreamt that Jonathan and I were restoring a home together and engaging in knock-down drag-out screaming match over the merits of subway tile which Jonathan favored and the retro 50's style black and white mosaic tiles I wanted for our dream bathroom.

I realized I had a problem. Then X'ers, it deepened when I realized that like most things in my life, once again I find myself out of step with current modernity.  Everything today is all about modern, open floor plans, ambient lighting, glass tiles, squared off sofas, lots of color, modern, modern, modern...

I'm not.  You may revile me after reading the following, snap shut your laptop or tablet in protest and vow never to read anything I write again, but I'm...ahem, (cough)...traditional. Ugh, I said it. I really like pale pastel yellow walls, wing back armchairs, chintzes, walnut secretaries and cherry sleigh beds. It gets worse... I like blue and white Chinese vases, Waverly prints, grandfather clocks, antique sewing cabinets, hurricane lamps and worst of all I don't even mind striped wallpaper.

Then we come to the thing that every self-respecting Millennial hipster must have, the open floor plan. I...like...well...I like walls. In the 1980's, my best friend's family moved to a new home. I remember visiting, alternately swooning over and envying the fact that they had a separate formal dining room, replete with ponderous cherry wood Chippendale-esque dining table and matching china cabinet hutch. In my home, we had an open plan, where the kitchen flowed into a nook that we ate in.  The luxury of a walled-off room just for eating has never quite lost its magic for me.

In my teens, I devoured gothic romance novels by the hundreds and there are no open floor plans in any of the old abbeys, stately manors, or chalets that these stories played out in. Where would the heroine hide from the lecherous Squire, libelous housekeeper, or murderous but seemingly kind nanny in an open floor plan? Where would Mr. Rochester have stashed his insane first wife and wifeys' seemingly malevolent but actually heart of gold companion/keeper in an open floor plan? You need corner turrets, secret passages, priest holes, libraries, and conservatories for such actions.

In short, you need walls....
If Frost is right and "Good fences make good neighbours, I would paraphrase that and say the "Good walls make better friends and families".

So there you have it, the unvarnished, un-staged truth. I'm not a modern...and as such Jonathan and I probably have no future together. But we'll always have Seasons 1-7...