Five years ago I moved into a new apartment, determined to decorate it myself in the style of the times. Frankly, I`d been bedazzled by all the saturated colors, sumptuous fabrics and opulent accessories that glowed from the pages of design magazines, and I imagined gliding through rooms that hinted of Venetian palaces, turn-of-the-century Paris and Victorian England.
So, armed with cans of gold paint, yards of moire fabric and as many tassels as I could get my hands on, I set to work and created an environment that was pretty close to my dream: billowing window treatments, luxurious-looking upholstery everywhere, gilded flea-market knickknacks on every surface. After a few months, I sat back, noted that I was now living in what resembled an antique bordello, and I was content.
But anyone who visits me today can look around and date my decorating foray as easily as you could count the rings in a tree trunk. It`s a setting that mirrored its times-lush, lavish, a little decadent. My home, I realize, has become something of a relic, a product of a time when America was on an economic roll. And in these leaner, recession-conscious times, I find myself less comfortable with so much of everything around me-so much fabric, so much furniture, so many odds and ends.
Of course, the risk for any trend-follower is that trends change, and now I`m in the grip of yet another one as the excesses of the `80s give way to restraint in the `90s. Suddenly and everywhere-in food, fashion and particularly in the home-tastes are shifting, becoming more modest, retreating from the overblown. Who hasn`t noticed that the number of Jeep Cherokees on the road seems to multiply daily or that restaurants featuring grandma-styled food are replacing the old nouvelle cuisine? On the home front, cocktail chatter about finding a good faux-marbler have given way to discussions of sources for bleached oak and aged pine. When I caught myself daydreaming of creamy white walls, I realized that my cans of gold paint have become obsolete. The design buzzword today is Simplicity.
”The `80s were a time when too much was never enough and everything was overdone,” says Louis O. Gropp, editor-in-chief of House Beautiful. ”But now there`s a little . . . distaste for opulence. It got a bit tacky, and the puritan American streak has come up and said, `Enough already!` Now people are standing back and realizing how all this accumulation of stuff just clutters up their lives, which are already very busy. So they`re beginning to distill, pare down, and simplify what they`ve got. The reins are drawing in again.”
Anyone looking back on the last 20 years can remember other times of design purity, each with its own special signature. There were the antiseptic all-white rooms of `60s Minimalism, for instance, and the industrial, steel-and-rubber ambience of `70s High-Tech. Whether periods of Less is More precede periods of More is More or vice versa is another chicken and egg puzzle, but ”there`s always a swing of the pendulum,” says Gordon Segal, whose Crate & Barrel empire includes furniture that epitomizes simplicity and ease.
”We sensed this particular shift coming several years ago, since the current economics of the world are dictating restraint, and there`s a reluctance to show wealth if you have it,” Segal says. ”The trend is to be more natural, more real and more conservative. You`ll notice a return to tradition and heritage, and when you look at our past in America, it`s not ornate with rococo colors. It`s about the same simple lines and materials that are reflected in the design market today.”
Simple lines. Simple materials. If the image of a twig rocking chair floats by, it`s because there`s a common misconception that afflicts many design mavens who are set adrift in this new movement. ”Simplicity doesn`t have to mean plain or rustic-that`s a mistake a lot of people make,” says Mike Bell, whose showroom in the Merchandise Mart specializes in antiques and new furniture made from old components. ”Even the most classic pieces, like Georgian, Empire, or Biedermeier, can be wonderfully detailed with carving or columns. But the details are subtle, not overwhelming, which is why furniture from these periods mixes so well with everything. The trick is to decide on one or two outstanding pieces to use as accents. That will help create a simple look, as long as there`s no clutter around it.”
Gropp agrees that simple should not be equated with crude. ”When you consider that the simplest dress is often the most beautifully tailored, you realize that simplicity is frequently very sophisticated. In fact, the simpler a thing is, the better it has to be since there`s nothing else to distract you. And I can`t think of one category where a bit of simplifying hasn`t made it better.”
For those of us who went for the ”ornate with rococo colors” hook, line, and sinker, the quandaries posed by this new direction might seem as insoluble as transforming an overupholstered Victorian lady into an Amish farmer. Luckily, throwing out the furniture, whitewashing the walls and holding sidewalk sales of knickknacks is not only impractical, it`s unnecessary. Creating a simpler environment can be a mere question of pruning: you don`t eliminate the tree, just remove some of the branches.
”For starters, figure out what pieces aren`t essential and withdraw them,” advises Holly Hunt, president and owner of the Holly Hunt showroom in the Mart. ”Then pare down the accessories to a few items, so that surfaces are clearer. Exposing plain wood floors where you can also creates a clean look, with area rugs to define different spaces. And a simple slipcover or reupholstery job on your furniture-with good, comfortable fabric-can give any room a lift. You can still have your 18th Century mirror, your contemporary sofa, an eclectic mix of objects-fine. Just have less! I mean, people are still buying carved Louis chairs, but they`re using one instead of four.”
Raymond Kennedy, a California-based designer who is national president of the American Society of Interior Designers, recommends a window treatment overhaul for anyone eager to pare down. ”For a while there, people just went crazy with drapery. Now I`m seeing a lot of simple shades and blinds-even completely bare windows when people don`t need the privacy. It`s a much less cluttered look.”
As someone who aspired to clutter in the `80s, I admit that cutting through it can be exhilarating, as palate-cleansing as eating sorbet between dinner courses. For one thing, editing and rearranging instills a new appreciation for objects long since taken for granted. ”It makes us make choices,” according to Gropp. ”You can choose the most meaningful, beautiful or otherwise important things and weed out the second best. Editing what`s around you can be a tremendous relief from the visual stimulation outside our homes every day. It`s how many architects and designers have chosen to live, but now we`re seeing a more general need for relief.”
In my heart of hearts, I know I`ll never stop wanting to display five of everything, and there will always be a glint of painted gold somewhere in my home. But I just removed two overstuffed side chairs from my living room, and it already seems to be breathing easier. Now I`m wondering what kind of wood is obscured by the carpet. Could it be bleached oak or maybe aged pine?
