At the top of the stairs, if you look behind you and to the left, there’s a door painted in blue. That’s my bedroom (okay, fine. I share it with Mr. December.)
N made the “knock first, then wait for an answer” sign for me. I’d love to have a prettier sign that says the same thing, but, in a prime example of the constant tension between aesthetics and parenting, I decided to honour N’s effort and thoughtfulness by using the sign he made.
Let’s open the door…
Let’s start with the windows. They’re high enough that all we can see is trees and the sky. The walls are white, and the ceiling and trim are my favourite Benjamin Moore paint colour, Windmill Wings.
(Is it weird to have a favourite paint colour? I’ve loved this one since 2003 — my old bathroom at my parents’ house was painted this colour as well.)
The ceiling light is from IKEA, and fulfils Mr. December’s major requirement of being very bright but very diffuse: you can lie on your back facing the fixture and still not get spots in front of your eyes when you look away.
The bed is from IKEA too, as are the side tables. I’m building the headboard myself, with the side tables and reading lamps attached, so that we don’t have things falling down behind the bedside tables all the time. My plan is to clad the front of the headboard with distressed, whitish-bluish wood boards; we’ll see how that pans out. Right now it’s way down on my list of priorities.
The curtains, however, were a high priority; Mr. December was hesitant to have so many east-facing windows in our bedroom and only agreed to them after I promised that we’d have some kind of complete blackout treatment for them. They’re full-length, lined with blackout fabric, and wide enough to overlap with each other. They also happen to include the colour of our trim (which is hard to match, as it has a touch of violet that other light blues don’t.)
There’s a small nook on my side of the room that I call my treehouse. It looks out into the big old Douglas fir tree outside. I’ve hung my own hammock chair here, and it’s my quiet space to sit and chat on the phone with friends. The reading light in the nook is my favourite light fixture in the house; K has cleverly named it “Dimwit.” Beside Dimwit I’ve hung my favourite photo of the two of us, taken twenty years ago at Half Moon Bay, California.
At the foot of our bed we’ve hung our Ketubah (Jewish marriage contract.) Mr. December had it custom-made for us. I only noticed after we hung it up that it matches our ceiling perfectly and echoes the trees outside. We couldn’t have known that sixteen years ago, and we didn’t even think about the ketubah when we designed this room. There’s something to be said for designing your house to your specifications: in the end, everything (even the things you owned before) just fits.
Just to the left of our ketubah is the doorway to our walk-in closet. My goal was to keep all of our clothes in one well-organized place. I could have gone with an expensive custom closet place, but why bother? I went to IKEA, which (aside from looking really darned good and being completely modular) allows me to go back later to get new components or storage trays and boxes with the assurance that everything will fit perfectly.
See the mirrors in the two pictures on the right? Another example of my reluctance to waste a single square inch — they conceal shallow cabinets inside the wall, and when I open them they create a 3-way mirror so that I can see all of myself at once (above, last picture on the right).
And now, my favourite part… the bathroom.
Some people find ocean views relaxing; for me, a view of a forest with a lake makes me feel good whenever I see it. The image is a wallpaper mural, laminated to be waterproof, spanning the entire wall (Mr. December and I installed it ourselves.) The floor is the same Scotia slate flagstone that we used in the front hallway and by the back door.
On your left when you enter the bathroom is our double vanity. This was one of my builds, my second-proudest moment after the herringbone shelves in the living room. I wasn’t originally planning to build my own vanity, but after my architect refused to give me three extra inches in that room, I couldn’t get a ready-made vanity to fit the space. After seeing the cost of a custom vanity and scoffing (“It’s a box! I can build a box!”) I decided to do it myself.
The toilet is behind the half wall, which (predictably) contains a few in-wall cabinets that house toilet paper and books. To the right of the toilet is the shower.
I wanted it to feel like we were showering outside; the floor is teak, which is never too cold on the feet and keeps the feet out of standing water. To keep costs down, I bought a ready-made teak mat and just trimmed the sides a bit. In case you’re wondering, it’s been nearly two years of daily use and the mat still looks good, although it’s probably due for a new coat of teak oil.
I flirted with the idea of using outdoor siding as the shower walls, but I couldn’t find anyone who had done it and had suggestions, and the manufacturer didn’t recommend it (probably because it never occurred to them.) In the meantime, I found these tiles and decided that they would provide the desired effect.
Finally, we have the bathtub. I don’t use it often, but for the ten times a year that I want a bath, I really don’t want to use the one in the kids’ bathroom. Our tub is contoured like a chaise, and surrounded by teak decking that echoes the shower floor and the countertop. I also installed a reading light on a dimmer switch so that I can enjoy my bath in a darkened room while still being able to see my book. There’s a skylight over the tub too — although in hindsight I would have put it over the shower, which we use far more frequently.
So that’s it — my sanctuary. A ceiling the colour of a perfect sky, trees all around, the warmth of natural materials, and a place for everything. I love it here.