My husband, Chris, and I are finally ready to bite the bullet on our so-called master bathroom. Ever since he took the sledgehammer to our tiny shower eight years ago because the pan leaked through to our laundry room, we have been using the kids’ bathroom down the hall. Our shower became storage for our Costco supply of bath tissue.

In those eight years, our 1970s-era irridescent green tile on the floor and walls has come back into retro-fashion. But it’s too late to salvage. The sledgehammer took to the bathroom floorboards as well when we replaced the plumbing with copper piping some years ago.
What remains is a funky patchwork of neglect and afterthoughts. Like an unhappy housewife, our master bathroom has “let herself go.” One of the cane doors on the cabinet beneath the sink has a hole in it. The towel rack fell off the wall long ago leaving big holes where the screws once were. And even though the entire space is barely eight feet by four feet, I still manage to have three separate piles of Vanity Fair and Elle Decor magazines: on a book shelf along the wall, a rolling cart between the sink and toilet and on a vintage rack on the floor. A once-special Navajo rug I bought from a shaman’s wife seems contrary and disrespected underfoot. And as much as I like a newly-purchased, vintage mirror with an Asian motif, the whimsy I was going for falls as flat as a bad joke. And please forgive me, my fellow Lookiloos, the metal blinds. (I can’t believe I even committed that to print!)
Our bathroom needs a makeover and we need help!
Our house is 1938 unadorned art deco-style. It is angular and asymetrical, with windows meeting in the corners. The only special touches are the glass block on either side of the front door, which has a chevron pattern matching the garage doors. When it comes to the bathroom, we want simple, clean lines. Nothing tumbled. Nothing too trendy. I like the idea of gray and white (I’m thinking Deco cruise ship) with pops of accent color. Chris likes a warmer palette, perhaps yellow tile.
We need storage and two “stations” in this tiny, one-sink bathroom: one for my husband shaving at the sink, another for me drying my hair right behind him (cheek to cheek so to speak.)
We’re open to ideas. Please share!

After: Here's my new Asian bamboo motif end table: Can you spot the other changes I've made in the living room?

Before: This retro bar cart was deemed too lightweight for the space. What else is different in this room from the top photo?

It took three tries, but I finally found an end table that’s a keeper. I was drawn to it the minute I saw it at Move It Elsewhere in San Jose: gold metal frame with a bamboo motif and glass topped.  It replaced the retro bar cart that I loved but seemed too flimsy on plastic wheels for the heavy lamp. The nesting tables still have a lightness in my smaller living room with the heavy leather sofa. And I’m a sucker for the bamboo look. Thanks for all your comments and suggestions on my dilemma. I hope you like it. There is actually a third, smaller nesting table I put in my den. (and that’s another upcoming story once that is complete!) Just for fun, take a close look at my before and after photos. Can you spot the changes I’ve made in the living room since I had the bar cart as an end table?

Ever watch “What Not to Wear,” where fashion mavens Stacy London and Clinton Kelly give style advice to unwitting fashion faux pas victims, but until the very end of the show, those victims still pick out the least flattering outfits on their shopping sprees?

Well, I kinda feel like I’m one of those victims, when it comes to my home decor dilemma. I’m getting great advice, but I’m not executing well. In my last two Mud Room posts, I have received several comments from loyal readers giving me the thumbs up and thumbs down about solving my end table and lighting issue in my living room. One in particular, from Val at Retro@Home in Emeryville said that because I already have heavy pieces in my smaller living room, I should get a “lighter piece. ..something two-tiered, perhaps with a nice leg detail, and glass topped would open up  the space and compliment your lamp!”

Well, that sounded good to me, so I stopped by Not Too Shabby on Bascom Avenue in San Jose, and there was a vintage bar cart, or tea cart, in the window. It was glass topped and two tiered! (I felt like I should have a camera crew following me and Clinton and Stacy shrieking in horror as I say how this is exactly what they suggested!)  It has plastic wheels and a Greek gold key motif circling the edge of the oval glass. I liked the idea that it had a retro “Mad Men” feel and had a dual use. I really thought it had possibilities. But just as my first end-table choice was too heavy (and now appears headed for my den), I’m afraid this one seems too light. My husband, Chris, and my parents and a good friend, think the lamp is too heavy on top and the cart seems a little flimsy. What do you think?  I know I can count on you to be honest. It’s only on approval ’til this afternoon!

Here are my previous posts on this weighty issue:

Light my Living Room: On a Mission for Style

Retro Furniture Search Ends in Husband’s Ploy for New TV

A false start on an end table, but possibilities abound. Nice lamp, eh?

Let me ask you this: How can my simple quest for an end table for my living room turn into my husband measuring for a flat screen TV in the den?

For those of you who have any interest in following my little design dilemma, here is the latest: So, I’ve been a bit obsessive lately about finding an end table as a perch to add more lighting in my small living room. And I had the idea that it would be a stylish little thing, maybe channeling a little retro Kelly Wearstler. Well, after a jaunt last weekend to Move it Elsewhere in San Jose, a huge warehouse  that bills itself as a giant estate sale, I brought something home.  It’s a 1960s-era solid walnut credenza, with geometric carve-outs. It was one of two matching pieces, both with removable book cases on top. I hemmed and hawed for more than an hour before I loaded the solo piece into the station wagon. I took the legs off so it wouldn’t be too tall to sit next to the couch. I swapped my grandmother’s lamp from my parent’s attic with the  cool silver one from the den that I actually spent money on and set it on top. (I took designer Kathi Mann’s comments from my last story to heart, adding a little shimmer to the dark living room…)

Looks better with legs, doesn't it? Could this whole thing go in the den?

I waited anxiously to see  Chris’ reaction.  Boy, can the truth hurt. “Too big for the space. Too clunky,” he said. Now, I’m not that unreasonable. And  I acknowlege that it lost a fair amount of its grace without the legs. But I really like it! And it was a bargain. Did I have to take it back? Was there another spot in our 1,900-square-foot house for it?

Well, in the span of a few minutes, Chris was measuring the wall of our tiny den, not only for the credenza and its mate, plus the bookcases, but a flat screen TV to span them both.   Do we need a flat screen TV? No. Do we need a credenza for the den? That wasn’t on my priority list. (The Ikea cabinetry holding the old TV isn’t that great, but it’s not a focal point for the rest of the house.)

Still, would I love to have both credenzas and book cases? Yes. Would that add style to the frumpy den? I think so. And would I concede to a new TV to make that happen? Quite possibly.

There’s only one problem. I still don’t have an end table.

If you missed it, here was my first post about my lighting dilemma:

Light My Living Room: On A Mission for Style

My living room. I've since moved lamp into corner.

I’m on a mission.  I need more lighting in my living room. (Even this photo is dark!) The only lighting is lamps — and since we’re not going to do any budget-busting recessed cans, I’m looking for more lamps and end tables (or a slim sofa table) for them. I’m heading to Move It Elsewhere in San Jose today (a giant estate sales open only one weekend a month), hitting up the annual St. Christopher Antique Show, and checking out Emily Joubert home and garden in Woodside, which is donating its proceeds from this weekend to Haiti relief efforts.

Sounds easy enough, right? Wrong!

Asian-style credenza with leopard skin lamp

The problem is, I’m in the midst of a decorating identity crisis. It’s just too easy to call myself eclectic. I consider myself a modern girl who loves clean lines (I’m an architect’s daughter afterall!). But look at my living room and you’d never know it. Still, it’s filled with things I love: an antique jewel-tone rug in reds and golds, a faded brown Belgian tapestry behind my French writing desk, and a black credenza with an Asian-style fretwork motif. I even love the lamps I have, including my grandfather’s cloisonne floor lamp, a small marble lamp with a leopard skin shade (from our days in Dallas), and a tall table lamp with a funky mid-century shade in gold and white I salvaged from a throw-away bin. Love it! (I even repainted a rattan chair from white to black that my mom sent me away to college with.)  

My crisis continues when I try to figure out just what look I’m going for here. I get so excited about vintage mid-century and ’60s things. I go ga-ga over Kelly Wearstler, who can take a 1970s heavily carved buffet table, paint it lime green and voila! But I need to get down to business. So, I’m looking for end tables on which to place lamps. I saw some at Not too Shabby in San Jose — bright gold boxes with glass tops (so Wearstler, I thought) but when I came back a week later, they were gone, of course. I saw some white Asian-style end tables, kind of retro, but they might be too stark.

A Kelly Wearstler living room. Why do I see myself as this?

The lamp from the attic. Be honest! (but remember it was my grandmother's)

I need help. Serious help.  

I should have known immediately that I was over my head. But we gave it our best shot last weekend.

Our friends, Amy and Parke Young and Julie and Craig Paulsen and my husband, Chris, and I decided on a south of the border theme and called the party “Night of the Iguana,” inspired by the 1962 film classic starring Richard Burton and Eva Gardner.

In the brochure for the auction, along with “Pacific Coastal Cuisine” and “lizard libations,” this is what we promised:

“Feel the sultry summer heat. Sway with the jungle vibe. Taste exotica. Experience Night of the Iguana. Don’t you wanna?”

(That’s the edited version. One step further and we might have violated Catholic school protocol.)

All I can say is, thank God for Amy. As much as I write about great decor and tabletop settings, I still tend to be all thumbs when I try it myself. (Every year, I swear I’ve got the most uninspired Christmas wreath on the block.)

I knew we would fare OK when Amy came over a couple of weeks before the party with the piece that would set the tone for the party: mosquito netting that used to be over her son’s bed. We instantly thought of those grand safaris — you know, where the elephants are stampeding outside, but inside the mosquito netting, a white-linen table cloth is set with silver.

We started by clearing out the screened porch and putting the seating arrangement on the back lawn for cocktail hour. I dragged an old rug I found at a garage sale from the shed (I could never get the musty smell out of it for inside) and put it on the grass. Parke built a bar from salvage plywood. Amy added palapa grass to the umbrella. Parke strung paper lanterns across the back yard and we lit a fire in the chiminea outside and in the fireplace on the porch, and lit tea lights everywhere.

On the porch, we put a long, plywood tabletop on top of my table to seat 12. We hung the mosquito netting above the table, draping and tacking it up — as if we pulled back the mosquito netting for dinner. (We figured it would be difficult to serve and clear through the netting. That lightbulb moment came to me later.)

And with boxes of colorful odds and ends from Amy’s basement, plus some potted palms from their yard, I’d say we made a pretty good effort at a “faraway paradise.”

As it is with any party, the key is that everyone have a good time. And with help from Craig’s “lizard libations” I think everyone did. And just today, I received a thank-you note from the couple who treated their friends to our auctioned off evening: “All our guests commented that they had never been served with such attention and flair.” The atmosphere, the letter said, “was wonderful.”

Job done! Chris even said he might be up for it again next year. Hmmm. Theme anyone? 

To take a look at a video of my screened porch before the party, click here.

To look at some professional tabletops, done by floral designer Jose Ibarra, check out these:
Wabi Sabi: Where the Imperfect is Beautiful

Can Lookiloos Pass Wabi Sabi Test?
Floral Chic Mother’s Day

It was raining this morning when my husband, Chris, brought in the Sunday Mercury News and New York Times, made coffee and built a fire on our screened porch. This was a rare leisurely Sunday for our family. Since we celebrated a friend's First Communion Saturday night, there was no need to scramble to the 10 a.m. Sunday Mass. That meant no quick breakfast, shower and half-clean-up before we raced out the door. No half-cups of coffee left behind. No unread newspapers.

When my brother, Geordie, came over at about 9:30 to drop off his two kids to play for the day, he said he smelled that rich, comforting fireplace smoke. But when he walked in, there was no fire in the living room fireplace. He found me here on the porch, reading my favorite column in the Sunday Times, "Modern Love." The fire crackled. Cassandra Wilson's soulful jazz played through the outdoor speakers.

I spent Saturday at the Willow Glen Home Tour here in San Jose and fell in love with the back courtyard of a Spanish bungalow. Just off the master bedroom, the space beckoned visitors out to the fireplace and fountains and trellises. It was a magical space (which Lookiloos will be featuring soon!) Homes tours always make me wish for things I don't have. There was a time during the dot-com boom that we considered a big addition that would have encroached on this screened porch, adding a classic family room to our kitchen. But the plans went up in smoke with the dot-com bust. And, you know what? I'm glad we didn't do it. I would have lost this space — a 1950s addition to our 1939 house — that I cherish now more than ever.

The kids have been running through all day from the kitchen to the backyard, dropping baseballs and mitts and muddy shoes on the porch's tiled floor. I only asked that they don't change my music to Taylor Swift, that they let me read — and now write this story — with Cassandra Wilson and the crackling of the fire. The boys have been bringing in firewood from the stack out back to keep it burning for me. Bless their hearts.

To watch a video of me on my screened porch from last summer, click here:

Ready to spend a weekend touring some of the most beautiful homes in Willow Glen? This Saturday and Sunday, May 2nd and 3rd, from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m., five gorgeous homes will be on show in one of San Jose's most beautiful neighborhoods, including a classic Spanish bungalow and a new, single-story ranch with a Tuscan flair. And we Lookiloos will be there to meet you! We're setting up at the tea, in the gardens of a historic Georgian mansion, with a camera and microphone to talk to you! Are you ready for your close up? We'll be interviewing tour-goers about their favorite spots on the tour — I'm excited about the outdoor kitchens — and posting them on Lookiloos.

Tickets on Saturday and Sunday may be purchased for $35.00 on the corner of Lincoln and Minnesota Avenues, in front of Chase Bank (formerly Washington Mutual). See you there!

Lookiloos received so much reaction to our story about the 60th anniversary of Big Sur’s Nepenthe restaurant that we decided to give you more! More photos that is. If you haven’t heard of Nepenthe, it’s a fabulous example of mid-century modern architecture in 1949, perched on the cliffs of California’s coast. Lookiloos also took readers to the lesser known, but fascinating log cabin just above the restaurant — a cabin that Orson Welles and Rita Hayworth bought for a love nest away from Hollywood in 1944, a cabin that is still home to the granchildren of the couple who founded Nepenthe in 1949.

So, here, please enjoy a whole slideshow of photos from Nepenthe as well as more shots of the log cabin inside and out. And if you ever find yourself heading down Highway One, make sure to stop. It’s just south of Ventana Inn and the Post Ranch. (On the coast side, of course.)

Nepenthe
48510 Highway #1
Big Sur, California 93920
(831) 667-2345

(Historic photos are courtesy of Nepenthe. Cabin photos by Julia Prodis Sulek for www.lookiloos.com.)

Can you say "hyperventilate"? My friend Dhelia and I drove up to the annual White Elephant Sale that benefits the Oakland Museum of California on Sunday, and boy, did we score.

The best thing about it is that it was a last-minute trip and I had basically no expectations. I had heard that it was a fabulous rummage sale, but with little to no budget for spending, I didn't expect to buy a thing. But, when you go on Sunday afternoon at 1 p.m. and by 2:30 they're putting up signs that say "75 percent off" — watch out people!

When we walked into the giant warehouse in an industrial district off Highway 880 and paintings lined the walls in a whole quadrant of the space, we felt practically paralyzed. Dhelia had long-wanted a modern art painting for her living room, to mix up her collection of plein aire landscapes and add a bit of an edge to her formal room. And, there it was — a large abstract piece in purples and golds with a reckless scribble of black. To me, it said Dhelia — feminine with the purple, elegant with the gold, and a bit daring with the black. Price? $300. By 3 p.m? $150. SOLD!

I found a little pastel female portrait — a study of a Manet — but it was original and lovely. The sticker said $6. I got it for $3.

I browsed through the 96,000 square-foot warehouse, filled with everything from furniture and linens, to sports gear and china, and came upon champagne glasses with hollow stems. I had broken more than half of my wedding crystal and these seven fun glasses for — get this — $4, were perfect.

A few minutes later, all the glassware that fit into a brown paper bag could be had for $1. I piled in another eight, almost matching flutes. 

When we went back to the art area, and Dhelia was ready to buy her painting, I couldn't help but hope for a special find. And there was another large abstract — with purples and sands. It reminded me of the estuary near the river beach in Carmel. But I wasn't here to spent $500, much less $150. Dhelia suggested we take a closer look. The saleswoman pulled it off the wall and said, "I can't believe this. It couldn't be right." (Now this was music to my ears.) This was a four-by-five-foot painting. Including the late afternoon discount, the price? $25. Not $2,500. Not $250. Plain and simple $25. "Are you sure?'' I asked.

"That's what it says," she said. So, lickety split, I said, "sold!" We high-tailed it out of there before anyone could say it was a mistake. 

We barely fit it into the station wagon. But once home, we put it on practically the only wall it would fit on — on the screened porch. Like Dhelia's piece, it added a little edge to my traditional space. We're still moving it around a bit, but I'm thrilled with my cool piece and great bargain. When we asked my husband how much he thought I paid for it, he had the nerve to say $25. Can you believe it? Man, can husbands take the wind out of your sails — or sales. He'll learn to love it.

Next year, we're there!

Related Stories:
Standing By My Vintage Female Portrait
Julia's Screened Porch