A psychic once told me that I was going to become an interior designer. She said I see the way the fabric in a curtain hangs and I look at that as art. I was like “No, you’re nuts. I’m a photographer.” Well, about 25 years later, I realized that she wasn’t so far off.

There are two kinds of people in life. Those who want a completely finished home that just needs furnishing and those who see a fixer upper and get excited over the possibilities.

Up until a few years ago, I thought everyone wanted to have control over their own renovations. Sure, it takes up your entire life for a few years, but you forget all about it once it’s over. I wouldn’t want a nanny raising my (non-existent) baby. Why would I hand my house over to someone else?

Someone recently asked me “Why”? What is it that makes me walk into a chippy paint, crumbling, derelict home and fall in love?

Hmm.

Each home is a history lesson. Much like the Tenement Museum is one of the most fascinating places to me, a home forgotten in time takes me back to that era. These home are over 100 years old. Perhaps it’s my mission in life to preserve the past before some eejit rips everything out and installs sheetrock, engineered flooring and Home Depot molding. (I just puked in my mouth thinking about that.)

It’s a blank canvas. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t a “creative”. I always see things and want to change them. I still have difficulty comprehending that not everyone is right brained. Is it like being psychic, where you have to develop that skill? If so, I should be working on my left brain capabilities because I’m sorely lacking in those areas.

Anyway, blank canvas. So, I walk into a house and I see the finished product. It’s kind of like being a photographer. I envision the end result and work backwards from there on how to make it happen.

“But HOW? HOW do you just walk in and envision everything finished?”

I don’t think I’m creative genius who comes up with completely original ideas. My memory sucks, but I must retain visuals from homes, museums and magazines that my brain recycles for each potential project. Well, there ya go! That’s something everyone could do. Start visiting house museums, go on house tours, travel, save images (the 2011 version of magazine clippings).

Adding, not taking away. Lookit. Say you buy a place that has been renovated, but it’s not your taste. You choose this place because the house that needs too much work scares you. But now you’re stuck ripping out that pink granite countertop and those hollow Home Depot composite doors. And what are you going to find underneath it all? How do you know the previous owner didn’t cover up rotting wood or leaky pipes? You don’t. And you’re adding NEW materials to the landfills.

With a fixer upper, you can look at the bones of the place. The original lines of the building. The intricate details and plaster curves that are no longer produced. Try to salvage that stuff! Something can’t be saved? Yeah, it goes in the landfill, but it was made 100 years ago, not 10.

Any questions??