My daughter and I like shiny things. Baubles, glitter, jewels for every purpose; we never met a piece of kitsch we didn’t instantly like. If we could, we’d live in a Tim Burton set. Imagine my surprise when, the other day, I was attaching glitzy stars to the dining room chandelier and my daughter said: “Just make sure you don’t overdo it.”
Excuse me? “That’s blasphemy,” I said. “Don’t ever speak those words again in my house. When decorating, anything worth doing is worth overdoing.”
She backtracked, but added: “ I just don’t want it to crash to the floor.” Nice save.
In all honesty, there is that danger, because we’ve been adding things to it ever since we first brought it home. I don’t much care for using items ‘as is’; I always imagine things can be improved, changed, made better, and I can’t leave them alone. Up until this time, Isabella has been my accomplice. I’m worried; is she changing her mind? Is she going to grow up and start believing in boring interiors? You know, the grey walls/ beige couch combo?
I decide a little shock therapy is in order, so I take her to the after Christmas sale. Especially at Target, which is notorious for stocking up on too much tinsel-inspired junk, the after Christmas sale is the best. It’s probably our favorite place to be, especially since many of the things aren’t all that Christmassy. We wouldn’t want any of it to clash with our Menorahs. Besides, since we don’t actually celebrate Christmas, we can leave this stuff up all year. Isabella’s eyes glaze over the minute she sees the 75% off signs; I tell her this means she can basically grab whatever she wants, and she’s off.
We do have rules. No reindeer, no green-and-red things, no Santas. Nothing that includes candy canes. We like pink, bronze, orange, gold, silver, turquoise; stay away from stockings and greenery, and don’t grab anything with pinecones or bark. We don’t do the natural look. The gaudier, the better; within twenty minutes our cart is full and Isabella is ready for the big question: what are we going to do with all this glitter?
“I don’t know,” I tell her. “Let’s take it home and think about it.”
On the way home, she starts talking about her ceiling fan. “I never use it,” she tells me. “How about you take off the blades. Spray paint them blue, and drill tiny holes? Then we can put them back on the ceiling, and we can hang all these ornaments from it. We’ll color coordinate them.”
A ceiling fan-turned-chandelier. It will be a massive undertaking, but it will give me an excuse to use my power drill. That’s always a good thing. Once home, we sort all the blue, turquoise, and silver ornaments that we’ll need; we have about one hundred of them. That’s a lot of drilling, but that’s okay. I envision the monstrosity that will grow from her ceiling, a huge object that glitters and dazzles anyone who dares to look at it. Her friends will think she is crazy.
Hallelujah, my daughter is cured.