What makes a home homey? Kids
may be the great divide, but I've seen houses that hold multiple children
and still manage to feel sterile, and studios occupied by single workaholic
Wall Streeters that seem expansive and full of life. Is it true that "glamour
is the enemy of homeyness," or are both possible?
Having finally found the doohickey that connects the camera to the computer,
this weekend I uploaded a big stream of photos from several different summer
visits to friends' homes. As I watched the photos go by, I started seeing some
commonalities among homes that were quite different in terms of style, location,
and demographics. At the same time, with E. away, my own usually joyous home
started to feel wan and dissonant. A casual visitor may not have noticed anything
really different--a couple more dishes in the sink, a cleared desk in the studio--but
the vibe was shot.
So what are the "best practices" that will make people feel at home
in your home? Here's my list--what's on yours?
- Designed for the people who live there. Homes have integrity
when they describe, on a bell curve, the people who live there--a bit of where
they've come from, a lot of who they are today, and some what they aspire
to. If your home only describes who your parents were, or who you want to
be when you get the next raise or when you get it together, your guests will
feel the disconnect, even if they can't pinpoint the problem.
- Flow. Does your home have a sense of fluidity, or does
one room feel cut off from the rest? Do you have a pathway from public space
to private space? There's a reason that, back in the day, houses were designed
with front doors and side doors, parlors in the front and kitchen and bedrooms
in the back. Your guests need an entry space, a decompression chamber--even
if it's just a console table and a coat cook--in which to adjust from outside
to inside, and you need the space to decide who gets invited in to linger
at your kitchen table and who gets shown the door.
- Just clean enough. My dear Aunt Marie's taste runs a little
to Country Cottage--probably not most AT readers' cup of latte--but she has
a placard hanging in her kitchen whose sentiment, if not style, we can relate
to: "Clean enough to be healthy, messy enough to be happy." There's
a balance between well-cared-for and hermetically sealed.
- Connected to the world outside. Comfortable houses always
seem to have a little bit of the outside in them, whether it's a profusion
of houseplants or just a hand-picked river stone.
- In flux. Rooms should have room to grow. Beware of perfection--your
guests may feel like they're visiting the taxidermist's.
Photo: Lisa and Michelle's, Portland, ME
This rambling reminds me of a poem by Herrick, a minor British poet who is best known for coining the cliche gather ye rosebuds while ye may. (cliche coining is a dirty business, but someone has to do it.) Herrick was one of those debauched priest types that dominated Restoration letters and the poem compares two women, one who is perfect in every part, the other having a wild civility, a wilfull wantonness. Herrick found the latter more inviting. At the time, the French, who had already perfected the art of living, refered to British interiors as "derange" -- deranged.
Nothing is impossible, unless if you want to. My friend have 2 naughty children, but she can manage her home, by get her children's dicipline trained.
Her recipe for clean home is enough storage to put your stuff in.
First on my list for hominess is that the space serves its functions *without* involving a nest of wires or a visible long-term mess-mess. Things have a place they belong and it's easy to put them there. At the same time, if you want something regularly, it's within reach, so helpless guests don't have to go searching for a coaster for their drinks.
Despite my propensity for having long-term messy projects on the dining table, I'm much happier with my home when it's completely tidy. But we're in no danger of overdoing glamour...
on this subject, anyone know if "maggie from south orange" is single? she's unbelievably h o t!
(oh wait it says 'hominess', not 'horniness'.)
Hominess is where one feels completely relaxed and comfortable.where one can put their feet up, where one can unwind. He feels warm, cozy, comfortable ( once again ). It can be around people whom you want around. the list is endless -
I'd take issue with the description of Herrick--to my mind, he's not a minor poet, but the best of the Cavaliers--but the poem alluded to, "Delight in Disorder," is well worth reading--click my name for the full text.
You and every red-blooded guy out there 'me'.
The divide that I've noticed between sterile and homey has to do with function.
In the sterile home, function is outlawed if it will create a mess--don't sit on that sofa, don't use those towels, etc.
The homey home is designed around function--sofas are for sitting, playing, socializing, etc.
In a homey-but-attractive home, the homemakers have usually put a lot of though into how to allow function without having chaos take over the space. This seems to involve tons of storage, routines for cleaning up, and frequent decluttering. The stuff always in use, but carefully managed.
Of course my own kid is still two months away, so this is all just my unprofessional observation.
Shannon, obviously we're more than somewhat on the same wavelength here, but how many people do you know who can name any restoration writers outside a playwright or two? Also how minor can a cliche cointer be?
Sterile homes are a huge pet peeve of mine - I have several friends who have gone through long stages where their houses never seemed really lived in, and there are several typical reasons why:
-Cold open spaces: This often happens when people have bare white walls, no rugs on the floors and no plants, and gets particularly bad when combined with a beige or offwhite color scheme. Warming things up with rugs, art and throw pillows helps a lot.
-Uncomfortable furniture: I've been to homes where the only seating (a settee and some dining chairs) had to be perched on, and it couldn't have been less relaxing. Chairs/sofas deep enough to sink into a little are key.
-Furniture too expensive/hard to clean: If your host/hostess has a look of visible strain every time you step onto a rug or sit on a chair, you're not going to feel very at home. I know someone who will only serve clear beverages and white wine in their home because they're so afraid of staining specific antiques. In the end, a home is usually a place where people, pets and experiences are more important than furniture. That doesn't mean it can't look nice, but if you go so far that your home becomes a showcase be prepared to lose something in the process.
-Missing furniture: Most people will want something to put their feet on in front of the couch, and a table near the bed. One of my friends had an extremely large, high bed with no nightstands; she had to get up out of bed to turn off the light every night, then would inevitably trip on the books, mugs and alarm clock on the floor. I bullied her into getting a headboard wide enough on top for all these items plus a lamp and she was much happier.
-Failure to unpack: Some people let moving boxes sit around for months or years, and send many other subtle messages that their housing is temporary. This has the side effect of making the apartment seem like a rest stop, not a home.
Sorry for the epic post, but these things do always bug me! The one thing that makes me feel my own decor experiments have been successful is when people tell me, "Your home is so comfortable." What else could you want?
JonnyB, love the French so much.
Eeeck, I don't think the headboard as storage is good feng shui. One could get beaned. It's really an issue of why your friend has that stuff all over the place nevermind the lack of a bedside table. I bet the issue is issues.
When I first interviewed for my current apartment I was immediately struck by how comfortable the feel was. It was a chill torrential downpour outside yet I felt warm and cozy. I was a little soggy, but the roommates encouraged me to sit down on the couch. It wasnt until after I moved in that I realized how messy the place was-lol. But in the end that clutter is a reflection of the people that live here, and thats what makes it home.
Eeeck,
All excellent points.
And to your list I'd add: No homecooked food
We went to dinner at a friend's expensively renovated, massive, neat-as-a-pin home with custom-made modern furniture, and despite the blood, sweat and tears he had poured into renovating his home, the place felt sterile and cold. It was too professionally "done."
On top of it all, dinner was expensive selections ordered in from a trendy gourmet deli. There was no sign the stove or any part of the high tech kitchen was used to prepare a morsel of nourishment. Not a hint of cooking aroma. As a result, the dinner buffet looked sterile and commercial and emphasized even more that the massive house was not homey.
Yours and E's is one of the most inspiring homes I've ever seen!
People who are interested in thinking more about this topic might want to check out a book called Home, by Witold Rybcyznski. He's a professor of architecture and the book more or less traces the history of domestic architecture in the west, from the middle ages to the present.
It's totally fascinating, and also a bracing reality check with regards to contemporary Americans' expectations and standards of living.
I happened to read this book as my husband and I moved into our first home: a (maybe) 700 square foot fixer-upper. Every time I felt sorry for myself because my house was so small--and when we were shoehorned in there with two kids, it felt pretty damn small--I could think back to that book and be grateful that there weren't eight people including the hired help all in one bed, and maybe some livestock besides!
"Your guests need an entry space, a decompression chamber--even if it's just a console table and a coat cook--" This gives a wonderful chuckle and pinpoints a missing element from my home. A really good coat cook will no doubt help my guests feel at ease, and they'll be toasty and clean on their way home, too.