a room of one's own
is quite a luxury
Welcome to my bedroom, the place where it all happens!
"All" meaning: outfit planning, podcast listening, snail mail writing, YouTube yoga practicing, late night Pinteresting, and occasional whole-pint-of-dairy-free-ice-cream-eating in bed. Virginia Woolf writes, "A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction," and the same is mostly true for blogging.
I've lived in a bedroom all of my life, usually by myself (but I did share for a few years with the lovely Miss Mary Catherine Stewart). I've always found a comfy bed and/or cozy-rug-laden floor to be the best location for daydreaming, writing, crafting, amateur guitar-playing, and other important life activities. But I discovered a true appreciation for having my own door and walls over the past year while living in a small dining room. Eventually I got a room divider but for a few months, the seemingly alive kitchen appliances and I just stared at each other, out in the open, up all night with the city sounds.
When I left the suburban bubble I grew up in, I met kids in San Francisco packed into hallway closets Harry Potter-style, at least four roommates deep in small two-bedroom units. They each paid over $1000 a month in rent. In LA, I heard firsthand stories of people's parents immigrating to America and living together in closets with their young children. I know that it's normal for numerous hard-working families to share single apartments smaller than mine, so why would we ever think that it's some sort of inconvenient sacrifice to have three bougie kids live in a safe and charming two bedroom?
I'm still constantly learning that none of us need as much space – or stuff – as we think we do. I've come to think of dishwashers and multiple bathrooms and non-twin-sized beds as luxurious and possibly unnecessary. And now that I have a room of my own, I rather feel like royalty.
For decor, I ventured into the beautiful, hellish maze that is Ikea and emerged with a wooden crate for my nightstand and the smallest non-child-sized desk I could find. Overwhelmed by it all, I accidentally picked out mismatching parts for my blue desk chair, so the legs are black and the top is white. I also inherited their Alex drawers and a fabulous futon bed from the wonderful Miss Emily Owart.
The other little things I'm overly proud of include: the cedar chest Emily and I carried to our place from a flea market last year, these Village Common and Overose candles, this Target shelf for books and trinkets, these monthly Poketo wall planners that don't stay up very well but that's okay, and my collection of hoarded postcards + photos torn out of old calendars that is now displayed on my walls. (I strongly believe in garage sales, thrift stores, and cheap art!)
So here's to: a room to live in, a comfy bed, and a roof over my head. I really don't need much more.