I can't believe I've been in my salon for over two years now. As is the case with most projects, the salon was over budget both in time and dollars. I remember the day I went to the City of
Columbus building permit
office, expecting my permit to cost--I don't know--maybe $40. $2500.
Fuuuuuuuuuuck. I also made the rookie mistake of buying all the pretty stuff first, thinking it was the important part. Not only does this jeopardize your budget for the necessary stuff, but then you have to store all that pretty stuff for months. So, no, I'm not being considered for the new host of This Old House. I don't like carpentry (too dusty) and I don't particularly like construction. Do you remember that episode of Barefoot Contessa where Ina throws a construction luncheon for her contractors? That's more my style. The one part of construction I really did like was the concrete work. To get plumbing into the office space that is now my salon, an 18 foot long trench had to be cut diagonally across the concrete floor. To save money, I asked (with the undertone of a demand) my dad and brother help me to get all the gravel out of the plumbers' way and then seal the trench back over with new concrete. I hated the shoveling part, the carrying bags of quickcrete part, and the worst was driving home feeling gross and dirty. But! I learned I have a natural talent for applying and smoothing concrete. I found smoothing and leveling concrete to be exactly like frosting a cake with buttercream. If there are any mason/bakers reading, please confirm this. As the contractors saw my fine concrete work, they all quizzically asked: You did that?
So anyway, as the salon project was coming to a close, I was feeling frayed and generally nervous. I opted to go with a sure bet in my color scheme. So I chose all white. I've loved all the white and have often thought how glad I am that I went simple. But I've been getting a little bored with it. I toyed with the idea of painting a wall, but I worry about casting tones into the light. I decided to experiment with color, the smart thing to do is paint something that is easily repaintable.
I love orange, but orange doesn't always love me. It is so hard to get right. The difference between cantaloupe and pumpkin is vast in perception but shockingly close in shade. Last autumn, I really wanted a pumpkin colored bar tray. I thought it would be so pretty September-Christmas. I love orange mixed in at Christmas. I selected and tested and was quite sure I had a lovely, autumnal pumpkin orange. Well, I did. Until it dried. Then I had a Bahamian mango smoothie color. Lovely--but far too tropical for
Ohio. Especially Ohio in the fall and winter. Despite this frustration, I really wanted to
try my main station at the salon in orange.
So the testing started again. I
have a rather bizarre method of testing paints.
I paint them all next to each other on a piece of wood and let them
blend into each other. The hysteria
actually helps me differentiate and isolate what's working and what's not. I'm much more able to see an orange is too
blue when it's next to an orange that's too red.
The paint guy at Home Depot hates me. I call him all the time with annoying questions, I ask him to mix 10 or 15 or 25 sample size containers of the same color with manipulations in tone of 5%. I'm always painting something and am prone to hyper-focus on color. But on very rare occasion, I think of something sensible and downright easy. As I thought about painting my station, I realized I'd really like to just spray it with canned spray paint. I love Rustoleum and am always astonished at just how closely the dry color matches the cap. There were two oranges. One was dark, more on the red side. The other was electric. Next to each other, they reminded me of the Le Creuset color Flame. I wondered if I could mix them, or manipulate the end product by layering them. I tested them in all configurations and decided the dark orange covered in the electric orange was the way to go. I'm really happy with it, and the paint guy at Home Depot is going to be able to stop going to therapy. Until next week when I continue my search for the perfect shade of cranberry (for a Christmas project).
A little change is good. Especially going into a new season. Will this piece be orange forever? No. I'm already a little sick of it. Are you planning any changes this season? And do you have the formula for a perfect cranberry?