There is a famous quote from one of the all time best movies ever made, Miracle on 34th Street. “As old as my tongue and a bit older than my teeth” said Kris Kringle when asked of his age. So when is your sense of style born? No matter you’re your taste in home décor or clothing it began when you were little. Of course it has evolved, but the root of it is still inside you and it began when you were much younger. The first time I announced a glimmer of my style was to my mom when I was just about 5 years old.
Here is a little back-story you need to know to get a true vision of the moment. I had an imaginary friend. Her name was Tuhootie. Technically she was named by my Grandma as a way of teaching me not to stand by the door of the elevator in her building. She started saying step back and let Tuhootie in. Within a few rides Tuhootie and I were fast friends. She became a great playmate as she was always on my side and wanted to play exactly what I wanted. When I fought with my mom, Tuhootie was there to defend my honor.
The summer before I started kindergarten my mom and I got into a bit of a match about something. Before I knew it I was sitting on the bench in Grandma’s bedroom waiting until I could say, “I am sorry” without sticking out my tongue. Finally I was able to master the sentence enough to release me from my confinement. I waited a minute or 2 announced “Tuhootie has all white bathrooms and a beautiful white kitchen and you don’t” (I remember Perry Como playing in the back-round). I was giving my mom quite the insult, as I knew she hated the 50’s pink we currently were living with.
I didn’t think of that story for years, ok decades really. A few years back I was looking through the “kitchen folder of dreams” that I pack every picture and sketch I have saved to build the Taj Mahal of kitchens. If you look at them it doesn’t take long to figure out I have a full on obsession with white kitchens. When I was five I probably didn’t have the exact dimensions of the marble on the island or the honed black granite on the workstations. There was no drawing of the reverse-painted glass sliding doors that would cover the cabinet holding 100+ platters. Of course I hadn’t pictured how a refrigerator, bigger than a Cadillac, would shine. However somewhere in a teeny tiny little girl there lived a sense that a grand kitchen was white.
So when do you first remember your style?