Let me say right up front that the right time to hire an interior designer is at the beginning of your project. That time when you are still trying to define your style, aren’t quite sure what you want or need, and definitely before you’ve started spending real money. Lately I’ve been seeing a lot of people try to go it alone and then realize that they are in way over their heads and I know exactly why.

When I was little one of my favorite things to do was to play “school” with my best friend. There was never any doubt about who was going to be teaching interior design – me – and she was always the perfect, eager student. Maybe it was because I was older, maybe it was because I was bossy, or maybe it was because I liked flipping the script and being the one who had the all the answers. Whatever it was, it was my first taste of sharing imminent wisdom from my whopping 6 years on the planet and I have to say, it felt really good.

Many years ago my husband and I were in an antique store in Westport, CT when we spotted an old, French, mustache club chair. It was a big, regal, show-stopping type of chair and while it was not cheap, we bought it anyway. Over the years it occupied a prime spot in our living room and it always seemed to be the chair that the first person in the door wanted to plop in and stay for the rest of the night. It had soft, buttery leather that you sank into and it cradled you with its welcoming wide arms. It just seemed to lure people into it.

I am an introvert married to an extrovert. Most of the time this is a good thing, and I know a lot of couples who have spent a LONG time in opposite-land and have figured out how to make it work. So it is no surprise that as my marriage slides into home plate for the 20th time, I find myself reflecting on our differences and wondering how we have managed to live together, in close quarters, for so long. Also known as - how have we not killed each other?

Let’s face it, we all have bad days. It’s been my observation that a bad day usually starts with my being totally narcissistic, finding some space and totally focused on myself. I suddenly feel that there’s a conspiracy against me and that everything is going wrong because I slept late, scrambled to get out the door, forgot something important at home and wound up behind every school bus or impaired driver in the county. It’s easy to see how it can escalate into a festival of “why me?” which just seems to continue throughout the day and fuel the growing pity party.

The best compliment I've ever gotten was from a bunch of 14 year old boys. It seems that my son and his friends were sitting around one day challenging each other to a game of "whose house would you want to live in if you couldn't live in your own?" Our house won.

I have been notably absent from my blog lately. Mostly because I’ve been very busy, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I’ve also been wrestling with how to be relevant, and even respectful, when faced with the daily barrage of heavy-duty shit going on in the world right now.

When is the best time to buy furniture? The best advice I can give on buying furniture is to buy what you love and to start now because you’re already late. For most of us, our life in furniture starts with hand-me-downs and leftovers from our college days along with a splurge at IKEA for anything new. And this is fine in the beginning because the expectations are low and we’re just starting out so everything and anything feels like we’re legit playing house.

A conversation between my husband and I goes something like this: it’s not going to fit, yes it will, no it won’t it’s too big, don’t worry it’s perfect it’ll fit, I’m not going back if it doesn’t fit, I promise it will fit, I think you’re wrong on this one, you can stop talking now. And of course I’m always right because I have an extremely heightened sense of space and I innately know when something will fit. In fact, my aunt used to tell my mother that I was spatially gifted because as a baby I could do the shape sorter in record time. This was the same aunt who gave me a subscription to National Geographic every Christmas (which I hated) not knowing that one day I’d be a total galactic junkie. Obviously a very brilliant woman.

It’s very easy - just show him your underwear. First let me say that my plumber is honestly the NICEST guy ever put on God’s green earth. No joke. The truth is that if he actually charged people for everything he does, he’d have been able to retire a long time ago. Instead, he lives by the business philosophy of “don’t worry about it” and “we’ll figure it out” and he is such a genuine sweetheart that you wind up falling all over yourself to give him money. And if you think you will EVER receive an actual bill – dream on.