Color Theory

I am focused, some would say fanatical, about color. Before Ron and I had even figured out how, or if, we could purchase Chestnut House, I had ordered nearly 100 paint samples based on interior colors specific to the late 1880's. When Ron would say things like, "How much is our house payment going to be?", "What will it cost to replace the plumbing and electricity?", or, my favorite, "Shouldn't we have at least one working toilet before we move in?", I would hold up a color card in front of him and say, "Who cares? Won't this subtle bronze look fantastic in the hall?"

Paints with proper names like Rookwood, Ravenscroft, even Biltmore were scattered across the floor so I, like a mad scientist, could monitor the effects of direct sunlight on various shades during different times of the day. I would note subtle chromatic changes based on the time of day, the angle of the Earth's rotation in a particular orbit cycle, the amount of pollen in the air, atmospheric pressure, and the way the shades changed whenever various friends came by. You don't often think about it, but a 300 lb. tatooed brunette changes the feeling of a color as dramatically as a wispy 6' blonde. The range of skintones, haircolors, and sizes represented by our closest friends made me work even harder to find the right shades to make everyone appear their healthy, vibrant, sexy best.

I even tried color-matching Atticus, because Nate Berkus said on Oprah to match your interior to something in your home that you already love. (Anyone who doesn't think interior design is a hard profession has never tried to cram a squirming, terrified terrier underneath that little color-scanner in the Lowe's paint department!)

All this work led to one of the most humbling experiences of my adult life. Every shade, every nuance carefully studied and fretted over, I came up with my "perfect palette":

Jubilee Blue-based on a sash worn by Queen Victoria during official functions,

Titian's Portrait Tone-the exact color the artist used as a base for skintones in his portraits,

Library Pewter-the perfect shade of green-grey that bookbindings take on when decades of dust have settled on their spines,

White Hyacinth-a creamy neutral that mimics the shade of a springtime favorite just as it opens and gasps it first taste of the season, and

Bridle Cordovan-a rich red-brown gleaned from saddle leather in British stables.

Ron had a friend over to view the house the other day. I had my hard-won color selections hanging on a wall in the living room. With a flourish, Ron pointed to them and said, "Here are the colors we've chosen."

"Oh," anonymous friend said,"Blue, Tan, Green, Brown, and Off-White. They're nice."

And so my Mister Blanding bubble burst. Oh well, if we don't like them, we can always repaint!

Jon (and Ron and Atticus)