I’m frustrated. It’s a wonder I’m not on the floor in the corner of a room somewhere, babbling to myself. You’d think I was looking for definitive proof as to the origins of the universe instead of the perfect neutral white paint color for the interior of my house. Cool neutrals, warm neutrals, those with a hint of brown, a touch grey or green, or a smattering of red or peach… How about a neutral color that looks good with travertine marble and doesn’t add 10 years to my face when I’m standing under a light fixture? Please… Tell me the truth… Am I asking too much?
I’ve about decided it would be easier to start each day with a martini. That way any paint color I choose would look wonderful.
After combing through Pinterest, Veranda and most anyone’s website who calls themselves a designer, I found a Wall Street Journal article by Aleksandra Crapanzano called, “Searching for the Perfect Parisian Cream Paint.” She writes:
“If given the choice between a glass of skim milk and a spoonful of crème fraîche, any Parisian worth her fleur de sel would choose the latter.”
Yes! That’s what I want! Not a stark white—I know white is fresh and modern—or a muddy shade of beige… Excuse me… Putty. I want a rich, creamy white that looks decadent and calorie-laden like it could have been mixed in the kitchen at Angelina’s in Paris. Remember Angelina’s, Essie?
You know what I really want? I want my things retrieved from their 10-year sabbatical in storage. I want my mother’s chair and a similar chair of my grandmother’s covered in something smashing.
Yesterday a girlfriend FaceTimed me while I was barefoot, in my bra and panties, painting color swatches on the wall. Not one of my good bras, mind you, but the athletic bra I wear to the gym. Wait a minute… I wonder if my gym bra is the color I’m looking for? It’s no longer new and white, white. What if I take it to my neighborhood paint store and see if they can match the color?