I’m an indecisive person. That basically sums me up. As most of my friends can attest, going shopping with me means waiting around while I stand in front a mirror dithering between two pairs of jeans. For about an hour.
Why? Mostly, I’m terrified of making the wrong decision. Yes, both pairs of jeans are nice – but what if I buy that pair, and then after a few days I realise that actually, the other pair was a little bit more comfortable, a little bit nicer, and I made the wrong decision, and then I’m regretting the fact that I bought the wrong pair of jeans for several months. Yeah, I have a bit of a problem.
I never know what I want. But probably least of all, how my room should look. Every time I wake up I’m in a new mood – bohemian, minimalist, hippy, modern, light and airy, dark and brooding, messy and sprawling?
Every month my bed’s in a new place, and every week I have new ideas for my walls, floor, ceiling, desk, door … you name it, I’ve changed it.
But inspiration is always welcome. And just recently, I was admiring a friends room; cluttered, messy, colourful, and oh-so-pretty. There are plants, plastic doll heads and burning incense, wooden floors and boxes of records; it felt like home. If I ever had to pick a style, it might be this.
The vibe: A record’s playing in the background. You’re sorting through a mess of vintage jewellery on your dresser; bowls clink and chains coil. Bottles of essential oils are spread across the floor near your bed, along with huge sheets of drawing paper, covered in charcoal sketches. Leafy green leaves obscure parts of your vision, and you lean over to tape a polaroid to the wall. You light a candle, the sun is nearly gone, and you cross the room to find something to read amidst the mess of paperbacks accumulated against the wall.
You feel calm.