Through the years, we’ve gleaned countless ageless home decor insights from our grandmas: Always have a vase of fresh blooms; vibrant hues are a classic choice; and there’s always space for a playful needlepoint throw pillow. Yet, while we’ve adopted many of our matronly ancestors’ enduring trends, there’s a select few of their notions we’d rather overlook. Here’s one particular decorating strategy from Grandma’s abode we fervently hope never reemerges: the untouched, exclusive-to-special-events room.
James Ransom; Styling: Alya Hameedi
My weekends with my cousins at my grandparents’ house are filled with cherished memories. We were generally free to roam the house, indulging in frozen fudge pops and rummaging through dresser drawers and the jewelry box. Yet, there was one area strictly out of bounds, unless it was Christmas or a special occasion: The formal dining and living rooms.
Distinctly separated by the switch from terracotta tiles to plush white carpeting, these areas were strictly no-go zones. In the living room, the sofa cushions remained perfectly upright, and the furniture was pristine, free of any water rings. While the wooden chairs in the breakfast nook showed the wear of love, the dining room chairs seemed to discourage lingering. Everything seemed so delicate and grand, that even when we were allowed into these formal spaces, we never felt like we could truly unwind.
I deeply admire formal rooms (especially now that my own home boasts just one living area, which bears the daily marks of living), yet I’m not a fan of the outdated notion of keeping certain rooms solely for special occasions.
Similar to the throwback trend of enveloping your finest furniture in a plastic sheath, the idea that certain rooms should be reserved for only a few special moments a year seems worlds apart from the warm hospitality our grandmas effortlessly conveyed in so many ways.
Designating formal rooms as off-limits is akin to keeping fine china out of sight and out of use. What’s the point of having it if you’re not going to enjoy it? Our homes are meant to be lived in, with family dinners that leave sticky fingerprints on the table and holiday gatherings that might result in a spilled glass of wine on the rug.
Ultimately, it’s not the impeccably maintained parlor in my grandparents’ home that I recall most vividly. When I think of their house, the image that immediately comes to mind is the cozy wood-paneled den where my grandfather would settle into his worn-out recliner and tell me bedtime stories—an event far more frequent than our infrequent Christmas gatherings in the formal living room, and one that holds a much deeper significance.
