Sitting in my room scrolling through Pinterest, pining all those Pinterest-y pins of White wall minimalist interiors. I looked up and looked around my tiny room and thought to myself 'I wish I had painted my walls White' or 'I wish my room looked like the rooms on Pinterest'. It then dawned on me that if I had White walls my bedroom wouldn't be mine, instead it would be a copy of someone else it wouldn't stand out from the crowd of White walled rooms it would just be adding to the pile. Then I thought why do I want White walls? have I truly been that heavily influenced by Pinterest and Tumblr? because it has came apparent that I have.
I do feel a pressure of White walls, not in the sense of me in a small room with White walls closing in on me. Rather in a way I feel I could never do a room tour or show you what's on my bedside table because my room isn't a minimalist white interior and that's what people want to see. Walls that are too White because somehow having White walls means you have your life together and you know where your heading and who you are. Which makes no sense what so ever. Life can be ugly, beautiful things aren't the only things worth capturing, I don't want to give an illusion that I'm not a girl whose room doesn't get messy or that I don't leave dishes lying around or that I don't have stuff. Real life...my life isn't on a pin board I can't swipe a filter across it and make it Instagram worthy.
I like my room. My room represents me and who I am, that collection of books I couldn't bare to part with, a landscape painting I found in a charity shop in Scotland, two Maritime maps that they were throwing out at college that I salvaged, a frame filled with leaves that I picked because they were just too beautiful to pass by, a small wooden boat I picked up in a local charity shop, a 1926 Gramophone that I was gifted for my twenty first Birthday, my failed attempt at a woven wall tapestry, my bedroom door fished out of a neighbors skip and sanded down, cushions that don't match and too many Teddy Bears. My room is me and that's the way it should be.
I will no doubt continue to pin pristine White walled interiors and girls in chunky knit socks sitting on white sheets with their morning coffee, but I will do it knowing I will never be that girl. Instead I will be the girl in the Pyjamas that don't match in a room filled with vintage things sipping on Blackcurrant and Vanilla tea with a three day old plait I'm too lazy to take out.
Did this make sense to anyone?
P.S. I don't have anything against the white walled minimalist look, these are just thoughts that have been swirling around my head recently.
Did this make sense to anyone?
P.S. I don't have anything against the white walled minimalist look, these are just thoughts that have been swirling around my head recently.