Danielle Crittenden's 1905 house in Washington, D.C. has been undergoing a major renovation for the past year (and off and on for over a decade). In this weekly summer series, which appears weekends on HuffPo, Danielle records what it has been like for her and her family to live through the construction with their builders, Virginia-natives Brent and John. To read previous installments, click here.
"DO YOU PREFER the brushed nickel finish to the unlacquered brass?"
My husband David and I were sitting on the screened porch, finishing dinner. It was warm enough now that this outside room could replace the study as our sanctuary of civilization. The porch was missing a wall, but that was an improvement over the study, which was now filled with building equipment.
We'd just entered the "mad choice" phase of the renovation in which all the fixtures and finishes had to be selected. Websites offering faucets, knobs, and hinges were the last things I saw before I fell asleep at night, the first things I looked at in the morning. Especially hinges - I wracked my mind over the choice between the concealed, European-style or the more traditional exposed ball-tip. I'd pretty much forgotten that there was a war going on in Iraq and heated political primaries at home.
"Which do you prefer?" David had by now learned not to fall into this trap--this charade of "being consulted."
"No, I'm asking you."
"What are the arguments for each?" My husband's legal training has not gone to waste: He uses it to evade potential domestic conflict.
"Well, brushed nickel might better complement the zinc top on the island. Unlacquered brass is more authentic to the period of our house."
"What does Julie say?" he asked suspiciously. Julie is our decorator.
"I don't know. I haven't asked her yet. I wanted to hear your preference first."
"Oh right!" He snorted.
"Seriously! I can't choose."
And so, despite 20 years of marriage, despite all the signs flashing "WARNING, TRAP AHEAD, DO NOT STEP HERE!" my husband ventured, "Okay, brushed nickel."
WRONG! IDIOT! YOU JUST FELL IN THE HOLE!
"Hmm."
This neutral "hmm" was something I'd picked up from Julie: a polite way of indicating that you will take an opinion under advisement but actually you think the person has no idea what he or she is talking about.
"I don't know. I think unlacquered brass might age better. It has a nicer patina. Brushed nickel may be too 'of the moment.'"
David shook his head, amazed at his own gullibility. "Why did you ask me then?"
"I wanted your input," I replied, as sincerely as I could.
Now you know why those old couples in diners do not speak to each other. The man has learned from decades of training never to offer an honest opinion.
Brent and John had also learned to dread any sentence that began with, "Julie says..." -- but for different reasons. Decorators were a category of humanity they regarded as being only slightly above architects. Decorators were always asking for things that Brent and John considered ridiculous and fussy. Often Julie's ideas would involve a design idea or product from Europe. And as everybody knows, the entire population of Europe is made up of interior decorators. When they aren't architects.
"Julie says to sample the Farrow & Ball 'Shaded White' and to see if we like it paired with the 'Slipper Satin.'"
Admittedly even I knew this exercise was a ruse; we were "being consulted." But I had to keep face around the builders.
Brent replied with a look of disgust. "Not Farrow & Ball!"
"Yes, Brent. I'm sorry. Farrow & Ball."
"Oh man." Using this elite brand of paint required a special trip to the only regional supplier, who is located in McLean, Virgina -- a wealthy D.C. suburb. Then it had to be ordered from England. From England. I.e. Europe.
"What's wrong with good old Benjamin Moore?"
"You say that as if I'm being unpatriotic. At least it's from England -- not from France."
Even Brent had to concede that England was not quite the same epithet as France. It was a beer-drinking nation, at least. Still, he persisted: "I can color match it in Benjamin Moore. It will be half the price. It will be the SAME THING."
"No it won't," I said uncertainly.
"Yes it will."
"No -- Julie says..." There was that look again. "Julie says the pigments aren't the same. It won't have the same depth of color. And Richard [the architect] agrees. Everyone knows you can't color match Farrow & Ball." (Not for nothing have I learned from my experiences on Washington talk shows how to be very insistent on subjects I don't really know much about.)
Brent grumblingly yielded. John called out from his ladder: "Just paint the damn thing white!"
"Enough from you John," I snapped. "You'd paint the whole house the color of Budweiser!"
Later, after dinner, I held up two paint samples for my husband.
"Julie says this one is a warm white -- not a 'white-white', not 'too white.' This one here is a bit brighter with a touch more green in it. Not a 'bright' white. Just 'brighter.' Which one do you prefer?"
"I like both of them."
"Really? I think I like the brighter one a little more."
"Hmm," he said.
Brass handles from the same period of the house, which I managed to track down in London!
This series originates in the National Post.