I want to go to there

I'm a color kind of a girl.  I made my mom paint my room orange at the tender age of 4.  My husband buys me gold shoes for big birthdays.  The palette for my current house is raspberry, green, chartreuse, blue, rust, yellow, brown, black, white, and gold.  (I wish I was joking).

And yet:

I just made this, and I want to crawl in and live a new life.  And write in my pristine muji notebook and stare into the serene landscape hanging on my wall, or lie on my bed and touch my cascasing flower chandelier with my toes.

This board was actually inspired by the sophisticated ombre curtains.  I spotted them at Crate and Barrel the other day (not really generally known for their textiles), and was intruiged by the vertical fade and the super tonal and subtle colors.

After yesterday, I felt those little frenchy x-back chairs deserved a turn out of a dining room.  And so, voila.

The exercise of creating a dreamy bedroom sent me many places:

The all-white living room I created at 24, because "better do it while you can."  (where's the color in that, you ask?  In the bedroom.)

The four quirky and delicate white ceramic vases I brought back for my then-roommate from a road trip to Arroyo Seco, New Mexico.

A photo shoot in L.A. that led to a night of camping on a cliff over the surf of Ensenda, Mexico.

The carved-wood bowls my father in law is thinking of making.

Perhaps I am starting to understand the reason for a restful palette:

The room recedes, allowing your own crazy dreams to stride forth.