Whenever people find out I do interior design, I often hear the same thing. "Wow, that must be so fun. I would love to do that." My reply seems to be something along the lines of "Yes, I'm sure it would be fun if no one had a budget or an opinion." That response sounds so rude now that I think about it, but I know I am simply trying to pop their bubble that being in design is somehow glamorous. Many a times my former design partner, Lenae, and I have lamented about how you really only have so much creative control over any job. Simply because most people want to be involved and have their own opinions. Imagine that. True, we all see the pictures in the magazines profiling certain homes where everything just seemed to come together magically - as if driven by only one very amazing, creative person and financed by a silent partner. In reality, a lot of those homeowner's nick knacks and pride-and-joy pieces got put away in the garage during the photo shoot. In reality, people get to keep their grandmother's chair in their newly remodeled family room to rock their grandbabies in, even if it doesn't match a well-orchestrated color palette of the designer's vision. I am getting a bit off tangent with what I really wanted to talk about, but I think it will all come around so hang with me... :)
I have had the pleasure of creating a career that along the way, has merged more with friendship and amazing people than perfectly designed homes. My design involvement with many of my clients has been met with products already purchased that were challenging, if not down right unattractive; dwindling budgets; design elements poorly executed; wall colors changed at the last minute because some wealthy family their daughter's friend, who was a nanny, knew had their house all painted in this particular color so it must be amazing, and so on and so on and so on. I hope it doesn't sound like I'm mocking. I am not at all. Just saying. This is life. And this is design. When I work on a project with someone, I can't monopolize the opinion jar and prohibit them from asking anyone else's feedback. I can't be with them on every trip to Home Depot and stop them from purchasing and installing before our next visit some $2.97 wall sconce they just felt was "good enough." I can't tell them which fight to hold their ground on and which one to give in to with the builder, their husband, their wife, their daughter-in-law, or best friend's best friend. Life is not that simple. Nor controlled. So, along the way, when design starts getting compromised... I choose "happy."
As I look back on most of my projects, this became the goal just as much as beautiful design, and if I had to be honest, it became more important at times. Because beauty is relative and design, apparently overrated, when someone has their mind set on the fact that its too hard, too impractical, or too... design-y. At the end of the day, and the end of the project, I don't live with these amazing couples in their homes. They live with each other. And hopefully in peace. They live with the battles they won, the battles they lost, and the compromises. And I would rather be a part of the "happy" than the problem or the regret.
This factor, for me, has made me have to re-look at design over the course of my career. Because this element isn't graded in a photograph, it's graded by the relationships - strained or friendly - at the end of the project between me and the family I am working with - and the husband and wife who need, and hopefully still want, to live together. Again, I'll compromise waving my flag for the perfect design, if I can end up with happy. Something they both love, didn't sacrifice their budgets, reflects them, feels like they had some ownership in the process, and kept them on the same page - during a process that for many can be very divisive and stressful.
I joke at times whether I'm billing therapy or design time. "Either way, the rate is the same," I chuckle. In reality, I spend gazillions more hours designing than I will ever bill for. And I spend countless hours thinking about how to dignify the family I am working with while pushing their envelope or convincing them to see what they have paid me to show them. It's a delicate balance which is far more difficult than creating pretty.
Creating pretty is doing a design board. It showcases a designer's ability to pull creative products and display them in a pleasing fashion that is unexpected or at a minimum, makes it very clear they know their stuff. Creating happy can't be placed on a design board. In fact, sometimes it results in homes where you don't think you'll take a picture .... but the couple loves it, thanks you, and you leave friends.
So that's why in part you just have to chuckle when people assume doing interior design for a living is somehow a glamorous occupation. Do we get to meet amazing people? Yes. Work with talented craftsman? Absolutely. Be surrounded by and work with inspiring materials? Yes. Use our creativity to envision something someone else just couldn't see? Yes. Translate that into a successful partnership where the customer feels entirely satisfied and without regret with the fee they had to pay you along the way to instill confidence and creativity and beauty into their project? Yes. For all those reasons and more, I love designing. But at the end of the day, it wouldn't mean a thing if I ended up with a portfolio of beautiful pictures of houses my customers didn't really love or feel they were a part of. And that is why, sometimes as designers, we compromise pretty to gain happy. At least I know I do. And I wouldn't approach this job any other way.
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