You might think, given my penchant for collecting lots of crazy irresistible things, that decadent XL fancy-pants books about home and interior design would be one of them.
And, the answer is: yes and no.
[Song courtesy of Beach House]
“My Favorite Home Coffee Table books” is a story that’s been on the A Tiny Apt. “edit calendar” since I started this thing two years ago. Yet, every time I sat down to put it together, I kept getting distracted by all these other books on my bookshelf that are sort of about home but so many other things, too. Like architecture, or furniture design, or quilting, or just puttering around the house with your favorite coffee cup.
I guess that’s kind of IT for me: that home design is less about the decorating scheme of a room and more about the little corners and vignettes that tell a more enchanting story over time. Stories about how some of us relate to home…or long for it. Stories from our pasts as well as the ones we aim to build and design one day…or right in THIS very moment. I recently did an interview for the iconic home/bed linens company Kassatex, and when I got to the question about describing my style, I kind of choked. I don’t know why, but having been asked this question frequently over the past 20 years, I still never know quite how to answer it. It’s like asking a raccoon to describe her style. You know, it’s a tuxedo but not really a tuxedo. Maximal minimalist, maybe? Coastal grandma at the rave? Preppy disco narcissist? It’s not easy summing up a person who favors modernism and old-man chinos and glittery Birkenstocks + vintage Schiaparelli necklaces all at the same time…(or this one, too…$26!).
The truth is, books like these 12 I’m featuring in the list below help me figure these questions out…unpacking what style means to me so this expanding story of all the wild things I love start to feel connected. And, for me, that usually begins with some history. Learning about where things come from. It’s probably why I love to thrift so much because I’m endlessly flipping old bowls and tea kettles upside down to see if there’s a new marking I might be illuminated by. That thread grounds me…and in some strange way, makes me feel like my tiny piece of this ongoing story matters, too.
“Wherever you stand, be the soul of that place.”—Rumi
I’ve always loved this Rumi quote. Because it reminds me that every space we happen to find ourselves is a chance to see and feel beauty…around us and within us.
But that doesn’t mean it’s easy! There’s a reason why the “simple” task of moving the sofa to the other side of the room can immediately turn into an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm. Getting our homes in the right key, like describing our own funny style, is HARD. Zooming out, painting a wall, mixing things together and taking things away…it sounds simple, but sometimes—most of the time—a little guidance helps.
And I guess these books have become my Guides. My inspirational-motivational-transformational True Norths, especially when I hit a rough patch. Perhaps unintentionally, they come at design from a soulful starting point. Like, the heart entered the room first and everything else followed. Many of these books beg questions that mean something to ask: What makes a space efficient and also therapeutic? What makes it dance rather than disappear? What makes a space feel familiar and safe but also one, like your oldest best friend, you can continually discover new/wild things about. The books teaching me not only about my own personal version of style and home design but also how I want to live/what I most enjoy resting my eyes on when I’m spending time here. And, perhaps most importantly—reminding me to have courage to just be myself:).
Case in point: On one of my morning walks last week, I spotted a pile of this bright orange webbed plastic (used for framing off construction zones) folded on a garbage can. I didn’t take it, but I took this photo and immediately came home and told Kevin, “Hey, what if we used this as the barrier on the open wall in the sleeping loft instead of wood planks?” It seemed like a revelation, albeit a little crazy. And even if we don’t do it, I feel like a few of these books gave me the courage to believe that I could.
Last thing here before we jump into the list: The other day, I was looking for a scissor on Kevin’s desk and found a book I’d never seen before, something he must have been referencing for a project he’s working on. It was The Poetics of Space by Gaston Bachelard, and the subhead read, “The classic look at how we experience intimate places.” Finding it then, as I was writing this particular newsletter, after never having seen it before, made me feel something so powerful. In that moment, I stopped writing, plopped down into the chair between our desks, and got into it. The idea that we can experience intimate places. And that in some small way, by appreciating them—being the soul of that place—we become a part of them, too.
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