Domino Designing
I suppose it’s always been true, but I didn’t realize until recently
that I’m a domino designer. It’s not that I take the little black
rectangles with white spots indicating numbers and paint them lavender
with pink spots. Nor do I fantasize about making the rectangular dominoes
into triangles, or pentagons or other non-traditional shapes. What I mean,
when I say that I’m a domino designer, is that when I redecorate a room
it occurs by the domino effect rather than by a planned design.
A case in point is the recent revamp of our
master bedroom. About eight months ago I decided after watching all the TV
ads for tempur—pedic and posterior-pedic mattresses that maybe a new
mattress would alleviate my early morning back ache, a condition that’s
only been present for the past four or five decades. But, if I got a new
mattress, I also wanted a new headboard. The old one was Motel Six with
swirls of rattan and bamboo that I’d hated since the day it arrived
eight years ago.
Macy’s was a great resource for the
mattress—an extra firm Sealy made of the same material the astronauts
sleep on as they hurtle through space. But I couldn’t get just a
headboard at Macy’s; I had to get the whole bed. After several trips to
the local Furniture Gallery, I finally selected a black wood Japanese
style platform bed that neither matched nor enhanced any other article of
furniture in our bedroom. But it looked really classy—a bed that would
make the casual observer think that I was sophisticated and knew what I
was doing.
For six months my partner and I enjoyed the
new bed and mattress, but then the sideboard of the bed split one Saturday
morning when Howard simply sat of the edge of the bed. I was really
shocked. It seemed to me the only reason for a side board to split was if
we were having mad, passionate, acrobatic sex—the bouncing off of the
ceiling variety—the kind that would embarrass any self-respecting
sideboard. That wasn’t the case, damn it!
When I went back to Macy’s the staff were
most polite and most helpful. They assured me that they would certainly
stand behind their product. The only problem was that the particular
product I wanted was no longer made. There was no way to get a new
sideboard; I’d have to get a new bed.
So I began the selection process all over
and this time I chose a light colored wood platform bed with some built in
storage capacity in the headboard. With the two bedside tables that were
part of the package it was a massive piece of furniture. It took up one
whole wall of our bedroom.
When the new bed was delivered a couple of
weeks ago and the old one removed, it dominated the room and looked really
great. But again, there was one little problem. The old headboard fit flat
against the wall while the storage space in the new headboard added
fourteen inches to the length of the bed. The fourteen inches of storage
reduced the space between the footboard and the TV entertainment center
opposite the bed to a ten inch path.
I considered placing a chamber pot, as in
colonial days, next to my side of the bed rather than playing “Tiptoe
through the Tulips” in the middle of the night to get to the bathroom.
Ultimately, however, we got rid of the entertainment center (which in
itself was fairly massive) and replaced it with a smaller Chinese red
lacquered antique chest. And while we were at it we ditched the old TV and
replaced it with a large flat screen set that sits impressively on top of
the chest.
It all really looks great and we’re
pleased with the final appearance but, as a result of my heeding the TV
ads for a new mattress, we now have an entirely new bedroom—one piece at
a time. That’s what I call the domino effect—like when you stand a
series of dominoes next to each other, each balanced on end, and then one
domino falls against the next, and the next, and the next, and they all
come tumbling down.
It probably would have been wiser, perhaps
even cheaper, if I had contacted an interior decorator in the first place.
I might have been embarrassed to say, “I’m buying a new mattress and I
want you to design a room to go with it,” but embarrassment isn’t a
new phenomenon for me. I’ll spare you the details on my litany of
embarrassing events—like the time I addressed a room full of dignitaries
in a prestigious Washington hotel (yes, the same one Elliott Spitzer
favors) and, when I sat back down, I realized that my fly was open.
But had I gone the decorator route I’d
not have had the pleasure of getting to know half of the sales staff at
Macy’s Furniture Gallery on a first name basis. Nor would I have had the
fun of browsing through every store with Asian antiques in South Florida.
But most of all I’d not be able to say, “I did it myself, mother.”
In
this conversion from bamboo and rattan to a new décor I was impressed
that the sleek sophisticated new platform bed was actually made in China.
The antique red lacquered chest was also made in China in the mid-eighteen
hundreds. As one who’s gay and gray, I grew up in an era when “made in
China” meant cheap and inferior. Now “made in China” translates as
quality—old and new. It sounds sort of Shakespearean. “The old order
changeth yielding place to new.” But maybe that was Confucious. After
all it’s now a Chinese bedroom!
John Siegfried, a former Rehoboth resident who now lives in Ft.
Lauderdale, maintains strong ties to our community and can be reached at hsajds@aol.com.
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