Sproost yourself!

When I was little--up until middle school age--I lived in a house decorated like a comfortable, colorful southern home. Rich, green walls accented by brilliant burgundy/red and brightened by a creamy white trim. Plaid furniture laid out a kid-and-family-friendly atmosphere. My very own bedroom upstairs was across the hallway from my little sister's, and we shared a bathroom. My bedroom was a pastel pink with solid blonde pine wood furniture, and the bed was dressed in a mauve-on-one-side, flowers-on-the-other quilt. White wicker tv stand and armchair in the corner.

Then when I was in middle school, we moved into a home my parents built. They had just been on their first vacation to Europe, and were so inspired, they wanted to live in an environment that reminded them of it every day. The walls are painted a warm, pastel mustard yellow color. The fireplace is a chalky gray-pink brick. Heavily-framed artwork from poor artists in Paris and Florence hangs on a gallery wall above the sofa. Rich hand-woven tapestries and the occasional statue of a romantically robust nude female figure pop into view here and there. One-of-a-kind chandeliers from Murano hang from a few choice ceilings. When I was 14 my parents set my best friend and me free in my bedroom with a few quarts of bright paint and a couple paintbrushes. We created a flower fantasy. Flowers as big as your head, and ladybugs crawling here and there. Sheer embroidered shower curtains became panel drapes tied to a thin white curtain rod by sheer ribbon bows. It was super cute.

I went to college and declared myself an "Art Major."

Wait.

Who really does that?

Interior Design really tended to my knack for neatness. My tendency to like to line things up perfectly straight. My patience to perfect every inch of a painting or sketch. I even turned my mechanical pencil as I drew a line down the edge of my 90-60-30 triangle so that the lead would be of even thickness all the way. I really enjoyed my art history courses. So much that, if I had taken just 9 more credit hours of art history courses, I could have had a minor in the subject. (Pshhhh, whatEVER, I was gonna be outta there in four years and nothing could stop that.) I learned the history behind Shaker furnishings. The first cave drawings made with berries and dried reeds. Damask prints. Wallpaper. Carpeting. Paints. Silks. Plumbing. Color theory. Lighting. And E.VER.Y.THING in between. Who had the first mirror? Why is double-paned glass more energy efficient for your home's windows? Should your family organize the living room with a sectional or multiple plush chairs? Should you have a tv in this room? Why use a dresser with drawers? Antiqued brass or polished nickel? Why are the best area rugs made of wool? Blinds, curtains, or both? I could obviously go on forever about what I learned.

But I think I un-learned a lot as well! In my design and history classes, I studied every type of design and art there is. And my problem is, I loved every bit of it all. Jackson Pollock never made more sense. Leonardo da Vinci was never so stereotypical. Frank Lloyd Wright's houses had never been this cool. And now, I find it so hard to figure out what I really like! For myself! And my own personal style!

I like purple. And tea sets. And painted brick. Oh, painted brick! I like black glass chandeliers and heavy drapes. I know I want black stained wood floors some day. And absolutely NO granite countertops. Concrete countertops would be an outta-this-world kinda cool. I love the wallpaper I bought for our rental so much that I won't even put it in our master bedroom because I want to save it for a permanent house... and maybe the inside shelves of a cabinet some day. I like shaker-style furniture and light-colored sofas with a padded back, but no back cushions. At all. I hate recliners more than any other piece of furniture ever invented. I want a clear acrylic chair as my desk chair some day, somewhere in my home. I prefer antiqued brass to polished nickel. I think I prefer painted kitchen cabinets. I have a sick obsession with lamps that is so dangerous, I can't go near the lamp aisle at Target, or I'll get myself in trouble. Every candle on display must have been burned at least once before it can be "decoration." Fresh flowers are worth the extra money every now and then. I despise stainless steel kitchen appliances. I love lacquered, handmade Chinese consoles and the pie safe my grandpa made even more. Store-bought artwork annoys me, and I only have my own artwork and photography hanging in our house. I think tablecloths annoy me. Those egg-shaped doorknobs are ridiculous. I love specialty broadloom carpet that's sculpted. It makes itself known. I love clawfoot porcelain tubs. A gold-leafed dining room ceiling would be ideal.

But what's my style?


Sproost it!

Through a blog I follow regularly, The Shabby Nest, I found this link and took the short and spot-on quiz. Just look at the picture and be honest about your instant feelings towards the room you see! Why wasn't design school this simple?

Apparently, I'm a beautiful combination of the following:

46% vintage modern
31% rustic revival
23% french eclectic

And I actually agree 100% with this result. I was just complaining to my mom a couple months ago (or something) that I was beginning to realize that my style wasn't as "clean contemporary" as I'd originally hoped. I wanted to have the clean, steril, gray/white atmosphere. But I'm just too in love with other things, like color and curves, to stick to that style wholeheartedly. Great results for me!

What's your sproost?