Clutterhead

A hotel-chic bedroom space-saver

2009-06-08T12:36:00.000-07:00

Above: Create the large allure of a modern, romantic hotel suite, even if your bedroom – and budget – is on the short size.

It's so popular, I'm going to share it again: one of my favourite floor-space-gainers.

This one’s a cheap yet stunning storage solution for a bedroom that fits a queen bed…and that’s about it. In Vancouver, this is a typical bedroom of any new condo development.

Most of us who make do with bedrooms this tiny have a proportionally tiny décor budget, even if we fantasize about bringing some allure to this private place. This is where the Ikea “Lack” entertainment shelf comes in. Long and sleek in brown/black (other colours available), it’s sure to fit the space adjacent or opposite a queen bed, and still allow prancing-around room – or at least two feet between bed and shelf. But the best part is that when mounted on the wall, it clears the floor and its luxuriously expansive surface pumps up visual square footage.

The next step is to mount the unit on the wall at dresser height, feet removed (not yours; the shelf). Centre it between the corners or openings and when it’s level (if you don’t have a level – a worthwhile investment – use a marble) mark the underside of the shelf. A friend in the bedroom could help here, but like in many cases, books may be more reliable. Set the shelf on two stacks.

Attach the unit using at least eight small L brackets, which won’t be seen after the whole thing’s up. Try to position the shelf so that you nail at least one stud (no jokes, please), but if don’t have a stud-finder (no jokes here, either) use metal screw-in anchors, which only requires a screwdriver.

Top it off with a large rectangular mirror centred just above the shelf. I won’t go through the step-by-step process for how to hang a mirror; if you’ve managed mounting the shelf (oh, stop!) you can handle it. How you enjoy your bedroom mirror is your business, but I like it for doubling the shelf surface and the light of an attractive lamp, as well as bouncing light off adjacent windows.

If you’re thinking, “I can do that” right now and are itching to grab the tape measure to see if this idea fits your bedroom, you’re ready to take on this easy project. And at a cheap $164.99, it’s not exactly risky business.

(Reprinted and revised article originally published in 2006)

Downsized garden maximizes outdoor enjoyment

2009-06-01T12:18:00.000-07:00

ABOVE: It’s possible to find the same joy in gardening on a tiny scale, using surprising containers, like these stainless steel cups that hold ‘hens and chicks’.

In the classic 1968 film, “The Swimmer”, Burt Lancaster takes a journey via other people’s swimming pools and discovers a whole new perspective.

It’s the same reason I take the lanes on my lengthy weekday walks. During the growing season, East Van alleys are alive with seniors of Chinese, Portuguese and Italian descent, toiling in their backyard soil, double-digging stinky steer manure in raised beds, setting in tender greens, staking up tomatoes or training grapevines.

Those chock-a-block kitchen gardens are nowhere to be seen in Shaughnessy, where the lanes are the main artery for landscape companies busy falling diseased mature trees or sculpting thick hedges into perfect geometry. Different universes, but we exchange the same nods or hellos.

I love passing by the wide range of city gardens, from the lush, professionally-tended gardenscapes in Point Grey, to the jumble of community plots in Strathcona. But this is the most interest I have in gardening myself – at least at this point in my life. After years of battling aphids/ white fly/ rust spot/ cutworm, ripping out choking crabgrass, schlepping around watering cans, and fighting with the cat to stop using the planters as a litter box, I’m now into low-maintenance summers.

For the last four years, I’ve been gradually downsizing my garden expectations and employing the same decluttering system I use indoors.

Like any decluttering project, small sacrifices must be made. I gave up the desire to be surrounded by a voluptuous, English-style border of flowers, but I’ve gained more square footage, and now view my plants as accents for a much more functional outdoor room.

I’ve ditched the annuals (they have to be planted every year) and anything that has an ugly season, like deciduous shrubs. Plants that need to be staked, like peonies or sweet peas, or require regular pruning, are history. My collection of pots and planters is down by half, and I’m not finished yet.

I now get my fill of gardening by watching my potted Japanese maple and ‘heavenly bamboo’ – each with bases of moss and ‘hens and chicks’ – change colour with the seasons. Or by giving my pair of boxwoods an occasional haircut to keep them round and formal, rearranging my hostas around the ever-changing seating area, and snipping bouquets from my lavender.

A high-maintenance peony and scraggly rosebush refuse to give up, but I no longer feel guilty; I look forward to their demise.

(Reprinted article originally published in 2006)

Vertical thinking yields more dining space

2009-05-25T10:55:00.000-07:00

ABOVE: A small bar-height pedestal table and a pair of leather bar chairs turn a kitchen corner into a dining space.

One-room living isn’t just an option for first-time home-owners, it’s a reality for a growing chunk of downtown-dwellers whose options are a long commute to work or 500 square feet of personal space.

I’ve done my time on the one-hour each-way daily commute and have never regretted taking the small-space option, but there are challenges. For one-room dwellers without even a bar counter extending from the tiny kitchen, the first challenge that hits is: Where the %$#@ am I supposed to eat?

When even a small dining-room suite sucks up half the living/sleeping space, it’s time to think vertically - counter- or bar-height, in fact.

A very small table that would ridiculous at regular dining-table height gains ground when it’s higher than everything else in the room, which is typically about three feet. (Test that generalization with a quick scan around your own living room. See what I mean?) Breaking up the surface height breaks up monotony and captures new space, which is why I often place large vases of twigs and column-like floor lamps in rooms. The eye no longer settles on the 36-inch mark but moves around to catch the higher points.

It’s much easier to find a wide variety of bar-height tables than counter-height – which is a shame, because there’s less feeling of ‘perching’ at counter height, and some people find the feeling a little unstable to be truly comfortable. However, this sensation can be reduced by choosing companion chairs that are more substantial than spindly, like upholstered leather or faux leather, available from low-end multi-merchandise stores (London Drugs, Great Canadian Superstore) to high-end boutiques and showrooms (Liberty; Ethan Allen). Avoid chairs with arms if you want to squeeze out precious more inches and consider a thick tempered glass table top to reduce visual space. I recently found the perfect high-quality glass-topped bar table for a client’s traditional décor at Bayside Furniture (W. 8th near Granville) but more modern versions are widely available.

More difficult to find is the counter-height table, which I prefer because it can double as a standing workspace and can extend an existing counter. I ended up knocking one together using four Ikea chrome telescopic legs and a small countertop for around $150. Despite the rarity of counter-height tables, companion stools are easy to locate, because they’re designed to tuck into built-in counter overhangs – the downtown dining room.

(Reprinted article)

Reducing photo clutter a sensitive business

2009-05-18T14:28:00.001-07:00

ABOVE: A pillar in this False Creek condo is the perfect spot for a vertical display of black and white photos in similar black wood frames, each reserved for one family member. When the owner is presented with more recent pictures from family – who all know she likes black-and-whites – she simply replaces the images and files the old ones in a photo box.

I've been meaning to grapple with the issue of what to do with all those photos we have, love, but can’t find a home for. Judging by the some 20 ancient photo albums crammed under my bed, I’m more willing to grapple with the subject than the actual things themselves.

(For those born in the ’90s, a “photograph” is a hard copy of a non-digital image created using something called “film” that produces “negatives.”)

We older folk are dearly attached to our ancient, non-archival quality albums of memories. They’re bulky and ugly, but we would grab them along with any kids and pets if disaster struck.

I’ve read many ideas for reducing the clutter of photos and albums, but most suggestions involve deconstructing the albums and filing the pictures in photo boxes – basically transferring a problem from book to box while destroying what have become artifacts themselves.

I once devoted my foyer as a family/friends wall of fame until it grew so unwieldy (due in no small part to the fact that many “helped” me collect more) that one day I tore down all the visual clutter of frames, filling several boxes.

Then my aunt, another album-building nut, decided no one would love inheriting her load of volumes displaying her many and various vacations and occasions, so she quit the habit, and ultimately, so did I. But it took a few internal battles before I wrestled my existing photo clutter into order.

I started by divesting myself of old photos by gifting pictures of friends and family, like the card featuring my sister as a toddler, for her 30th birthday. Now I do it regularly, retaining an ever-smaller (relatively speaking) selection for myself. I still love building albums, but I create them by subject that spans the eras, like “Grandma Flo” or “Camping” and deep-six the remainders. Yes, it hurts to throw out any photo, but am consoled knowing I still have the negatives filed by date in one large three-ring binder.

As for the gifts of framed photos of friends and family we all accumulate, well, just because I don’t display every photo doesn’t mean I love them less.

The final step happened when I joined the rest of the world in going digital. Now I back up all images on an an external hard drive every month, where they're in virtual files according to general dates and major subjects. I rejoice in no longer having to contend with more bundles of prints and negatives.

(Updated version of column originally published in 2006)

Small-kitchen reno adds room to spare

2009-05-11T08:12:00.000-07:00

BEFORE AND AFTER: No amount of colour could disguise the lack of storage and work/cook space in the ‘before’ kitchen. After: splurging on a slim European fridge opened up space for more — and more accessible— cabinets and countertops, without increasing square footage.

I once read a list in GQ magazine of things a man must learn to do by the time he is 30. Carve a turkey. Tie a bowtie. Make a heartfelt toast. (Or was that a heartfelt speech?)

Trivial lists have a way of burning into my brain – unsurprising if you’re the organizer-type – and I’ve constructed my own. Do a triathlon. Go to Rome. Sing a solo in public – if asked. Tick, tick, and tick. I checked another one off Tuesday: survive my own major renovation.

It’s not the bills that wore me down ($16,000 is a drop in the bucket compared to the price of upgrading to a city condo with a beautifully functional kitchen) or the lack of running water for five weeks. It was the disruption of routine and the unpredictable jobs like scraping globs of plaster from the top of the computer, or patching up the chipped enamel in the bathroom sink that served as dishwashing centre. Or removing the stack of drying dishes from the toilet seat in order to… well, you get the picture.

But I’m not complaining. As I type this-column, I pause to take yet another thankful look at the expanse of gleaming acrylic composite countertop uninterrupted visually by a 30-inch slide-in, glass-topped stove and an undermounted sink. The new, slim German-made refrigerator tucks flush with the base cabinets and expands higher than a standard model. No more jumping on counters to reach basic everyday necessities. Or groping into the deep, blind-corner cupboards for long-lost items. (It took the demolition crew to unearth five cans of tomatoes.)

Contemplating a kitchen reno?

• Sell your worthy second-hand appliances easily on Craig’s list (vancouver.craigslist.org). Click on “Household” in the “For Sale” category to see how others are doing it, and also to view any new or near-new appliances.

• Shop around for the best prices on appliances, THEN see if there’s any incentive in buying them at once. Most appliance dealers will match competitors’ quotes. The usual comparison-shopping rounds include Midland, Trail, Coast Wholesale, Sears, and Edmond’s.

• Install low-voltage under-cabinet lighting, with dimmer. Task lighting is essential, and regular halogen lighting is too hot. If you like Ikea’s 10-volt lights, an electrician can eliminate the chunky transformers.

• If acrylic composite, stone-chip composite or stone is out of your budget, consider a shiny laminate with metal edging.

(Updated article riginally published in 2005)

Create outdoor room with function first

2009-05-04T09:31:00.000-07:00

ABOVE:Pier One Imports' line of dark rattan furnishings in the ‘modern craftsman' style are answering the latest trend in outdoor rooms.

The merry, merry month of May is upon us, but the real harbinger of fair weather is the arrival of the Ikea outdoor furnishings flyer.

This year’s onslaught of brightly coloured plasticky patio accessories scream for our attention but do we really need a decorative neon green bug-screen food dome or hot-pink plastic marguerita set? No, we don’t. However, most of us could use a bit of help to make the best of the little outdoor space we have. (If you don’t have any exterior space, get your outdoor fix by toting a portable barbecue, well-stocked picnic basket and sturdy fold-up lounge chairs to any of the surrounding beachfronts for regular al fresco dinners.)

Before you buy on impulse, think about the probable use of your patio or balcony. Are you likely to entertain here? Do you want to play barbecue chef or do you just need a personal retreat for reading a book or catching up on some Z’s? Is it a logical spot for morning coffee or does it really shine at sunset with the aid of martinis?

With so little space inside, your outside space may be best used as an extension of the living room. Outdoor rooms represent a lucrative chunk of the home furnishing business. Suddenly there are weather-resistant (“-proof” is another thing altogether) sofas, coffee tables, armchairs, drapes – virtually any item you might have in your living room. So entranced are we about adding another room to our homes, we’re including patio-table-top propane heaters and electric fireplaces, if only to stop our Torontonian friends from reminding us that we never get the warm nights like they have Back Home.

But unless your outdoor space offers deep shelter from the elements, you’re limited to the kind of furnishings for your outdoor room. Anything other than cast aluminum and resin will rot and rust and disintegrate in no time. That’s life in the coastal rainforest region for you. If you had a nice big home in the ’burbs, you could just fire the lot of it in the garage or basement after summer ends, but in the city, you use it or you lose it.

One relatively new option showing up everywhere from Superstore to high-end patio furnishing showrooms is the rattan-look 'resin' (aka plastic) woven seating. I've test-drove two armchairs for two years under all weather, including heavy snow, and they still look like new.

Meanwhile I’m still looking for a truly rain-proof area rug. Suggestions, anyone?

(Revised article originally published in 2005)

You get what you pay for

2009-04-20T15:01:00.000-07:00

ABOVE: The vacuums advertised in the 1959 Ladies' Home Journal were dead-heavy brutes built to last.

I’m a member of the Indignant Consumer set. You know us by our grim stance as we hand over our credit cards. We exude suspicion and fatalism as we purchase a new fridge. We suck any sense of novelty as we’re shown all the smart features on our brand new iPhones.

It’s not our fault; we were brought up at a time when we expected our dishwasher/car/washer-dryer to last 20 years, back when a uniformed BC Tel employee would come to our homes to exchange our free-use family phone if it failed working after a decade. Yes, it’s a sense of entitlement, but is it too much to expect to be entitled to, say, a new vacuum cleaner that doesn’t explode?

That’s what I was mumbling at the TV as I watched the news about that local mother who was attacked by her stick vacuum cleaner last month. Her rechargeable made-in-China battery had exploded, burning her flesh, firing shrapnel into the drywall and launching the stick part of the vacuum clear down the stairs.

I immediately marched my own stick vacuum to the computer like a naughty child to the corner. My model number was not listed at the U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission website, but looked identical to a heap of the 320,000 potential bombs. I called the 1-800 number, gave all the particulars and was informed that my model was not part of the recall. I hung up, momentarily relieved, but as the skepticism indicative of my kind kicked in, I called back. “Unfortunately your product is part of the voluntary recall,” the new voice read from his script. I am triumphant in my defeat.

My home, like most homes, bears evidence of an increasingly shoddy global manufacturing industry. The 30-year-old rubberband-beige American Standard toilets are stalwart and dependable water hogs. The 15-year-old stacked washer-dryer and dishwasher remain reliable. The two-year-old microwave oven-fan hood combo has been repaired once under warranty after a smoky short-out, but continues to rattle threateningly when in use. The iMac was exempt from the global recall for catching fire but gets frighteningly warm. The six-month-old MacBook Pro has already been replaced once and crashes regularly. The new iPhone has been serviced twice for voicemail malfunction.

As for the new Electrolux Ergorapido 2 In 1, I’m suddenly pining for my old 1950s canister model Electrolux about the shape and heft of, well, a real bomb.

Good design trumps trendy decor

2009-04-13T16:14:00.000-07:00

ABOVE: The saloon doors in question.
ABOVE: An artistic alternative

ABOVE: The noren is a familiar feature at the entrances of homes and storefront businesses in Japan, especially in summer.

A regular reader wrote me last week to get what sounded like the tenth opinion on a functional feature of her own 1970s apartment. Seems that her kitchen swing doors had suddenly come under attack. A tradesman suggested she lose them.

She had liked the way those doors (pictured here) concealed her kitchen from the entryway. Were they really that offensive?

The general consensus was they looked like something out of a Clint Eastwood movie, but I begged to differ, for many reasons.

First, they effectively remove the sightline of typical counter clutter without chopping up the flow or cutting out light. Second, their swing style allows her to move through them easily, even if her arms are full of groceries. Third, they’re clean-lined and cream-coloured, in keeping with the apartment. But the biggest reason they should stay is that she likes them.

Which brings me back to one of my favourite questions: style according to whom?

The designer is not the boss or you. Or me. There is no right or wrong way to set up your own space but endless possibilities. As the Groove Armada song goes, “If everybody looked the same, we’d be tired of looking at each other.”

Not everybody wants to live in a matchy-matchy display suite environment, but the space does need to be functional or you’ll be in a constant low-level struggle with your home. Removing that set of swing doors might compel the owner to constantly keep the kitchen counters clear of messy evidence of meal preparation — or feel guilty for not being on top of that high-maintenance routine.

The Japanese ‘noren’ is a sweet example of the form-function balance that answers the need for a permeable barrier between public and private space. Its practical purpose has evolved into an emblematic, heraldic art form, incorporating traditional and contemporary shibori, batik, block-printing and silkscreen techniques. But the noren endures because of its function. It keeps bugs, glaring sun and nosy neighbours at bay during hot days when the doors are opened wide for better air flow. It can be installed in a second and serves the same purpose as a welcome mat for storefront businesses and restaurants.

I suggested to the inquiring reader that she take advantage of her swing doors’ new function as a conversation piece by flinging them open before company with Clint Eastwood flair.

Good design never goes out of style.

More than retail value in vintage furnishings

2009-04-06T20:33:00.000-07:00

ABOVE: A vintage Central Asian tribal carpet carries stories of discovery.

Apparently Christie’s is auctioning off a goldmine of rare antiques from the Southam family estate in a house (and by ‘house’ I mean ‘mansion’) not far from my house (and by that I mean ‘1970s apartment.’) A soup tureen may garner six-digit bids. A settee about the size of a condo-sized sofa — and there’s where the comparison ends — will have collectors clambouring to exchange it for heaps of cash.

Like the Antiques Road Show, this news keeps me well aware of the fact that most of the furnishings in my home is, relatively speaking, crap. When I shed my mortal coil, my numerous nephews might cherry-pick a chair here or a lamp there but they’ll likely sell the rest for one everything-must-go price on craigslist.

Yet every once in a while you read about some old lady who finds she’s got a find among her clutter of everyday things, like that garage-sale splatter painting that turned out to be a Pollock. I could be that old lady, I thought, as I started researching a dirt-coloured rug that’s been in our family as far as I can remember.

It’s a wonky little textile, featuring what looks like two bombs and some mysterious lines of arrows pointing in odd directions. It was intriguing enough for my mom to bring it home from a Sally Ann on East Hastings in 1969, and it was intriguing enough for me to save it from going back to goodwill a couple of summers ago.

I searched every book on Oriental carpets at the library, but soon found better luck in an online discussion group, mixing it up with some scholarly collectors of Central Asian tribal rugs. I posted a pic and was rewarded with well-thought-out replies.

Aside from informing me that the carpet was photographed upside-down (how embarrassing), they weighed in on ideas about the unusual design. I felt thisclose to discovering that the rug was a highly collectible rarity from the remote Steppes region of Afghanistan when one collector gently suggested it was a tribal knock-off of a more valuable style — and suffering from a bad case of faded synthetic dye. Pooh.

So this will be added to my one-price-for-the-lot collection of junk after all.
But the search did reveal something else of value: Communities of good-natured, intriguing people are just a click away.

And the value in little old things can be in the stories they hold.

No-rules artists deserve place of honour

2009-03-30T16:07:00.000-07:00

ABOVE: Celebrate kids’ creativity and bring a little soul to your own space by framing their favourite artworks and hanging them in a place of honour — like this dining room.

If art is meant to provoke ideas and discussion, mass-produced ‘home décor’ wall art brings any thoughts to a grinding halt.

The only value in those made-in-China cheapos is that they tie a room together. That works if the room is a display suite or it’s where you wait for the dentist to call you. But if that room is in your own living space, you’re going to quickly tire of that $29.95 cherry blossoms-Buddha montage or black-and-white Eiffel Tower from Ikea. There’s no soul, no back story to these works of artlessness.

However, I do get to thinking when I come across yet another trio of ‘original’ oil paintings of droopy tulips in a vase, or the billowed-curtain, open-window view of some anonymous ocean. I think of the first scene in Manufactured Landscapes, and imagine one of those cavernous factories in China full of lowly-paid workers mechanically daubing thick paint onto an endless line of identical ink-jet-printed stretched canvases.

Not the kind of thoughts one likes to have when one kicks off her shoes and sinks into the sofa at the end of the day.

But I’m not here to condemn someone’s choice to buy fake art; I’m hoping to promote a special group of gifted innovators whose highly original artworks don’t get the respect they deserve. I’m talking about those people whose unrestrained creativity inspires even the most successful artists.

I’m talking about your kids. Or your kids’ kids. Or your friends’ kids. Or your kid friends.

They might select colour according to how much they like that colour, subject according to their own inner universe. And unlike the likes of Matisse, Picasso or Cezanne, they do not strive to break the rules because they haven’t learned them yet.
The fridge door might be fine for a spontaneous scribble, but a drawing or painting that a child has created with passion deserves to be set in a mat, framed and situated in a place of honour, like the living room.

For best results, smooth the picture with tack spray onto foamcore trimmed to fit a purchased frame, with or without a mat.

I like the idea of dedicating one large frame per kid, updated as the young artist creates, with earlier artworks filed into a binder or rolled up into a poster tube labeled with his or her name. What a gift for them when they’re 30.

Best to call in the pros

2009-03-23T19:22:00.000-07:00

ABOVE: Tradespeople are suddenly available for those small fix-it jobs.

The other day I discovered our bathroom floor had become a lake. The Man of the House and I looked at each other accusingly. In our panic we used the good towels to sop up the flood and hoped that the whole situation would self-correct. I finally had the bright idea to shut off the tap behind the toilet, but even this was a challenge. (Is it ‘righty tighty' or do I close left, like the sink taps?)

Some jobs are best left to the pros.

The plumber showed up to announce that the leaking intake pipe needed replacing. I looked at him blankly.

“I’ll just replace that now and get out of here,” he said wearily.

While he took up his position coiled around the commode to replace the curvy pipe with a sort-of woven pipe-like thing, I peppered him with plumbing questions. I want to renovate, see. Can I move my sink? Can I put a washer-dryer in here? Can I get a bigger tub? He answered each specific with a general: “You gotta be careful about doing something like that.”

I hate these kinds of answers. I like answers like: “Smart idea!” and “You could do that yourself!”

Fifteen minutes later as he was attempting to leave I corralled him into the other bathroom. “What’s the deal here?” I asked, lifting the lid of the toilet tank. He peered in.

“It’s your ball-cock,” he said. (I’m not making this stuff up.) “It’s dripping there. You need a Fluid Master fill valve.” You could do it yourself, he said. I tried to imagine the Man of the House and me wandering the Home Depot plumbing-parts aisle, ball-cock in hand. I would also need an exotic-sounding wrench and would have to be careful not to crack the tank in the process.

His $200 bill was a small price to pay for household peace. The moral: It’s tempting to go it alone when it comes to fixing what needs fixing but it pays to call the pros. And these days, they could use the good work they're trained to do.

Those who live in apartment complexes can call their property manager to find the services they use for building repairs. Otherwise, ask those you trust for recommendations. For extra reassurance, check the Better Business Bureau (http://mainlandbc.bbb.org/) to see if the company you’re considering has been flagged.

My dream home has a sorting centre

2009-03-16T20:22:00.000-07:00

ABOVE: This townhouse kitchen was extended to the rear entry with the addition of a series of white Ikea wardrobes that hold recycling, outerwear, tools and shoes. The fridge was relocated closer to the entry, and a run of counter installed for incoming grocery bags.

The latest gotta-have-it features in dream homes go in and out of style like clothing. The extra-large jet tub has been replaced by the extra-large walk-in shower with glass doors and raindrop shower-head. The conversation pit is now a home theatre.

Yet despite all the latest luxuries, I’ve yet to come across a home that has the one feature that would have me at ‘hello’: a well-designed plan for all the incoming — groceries, mail, outerwear and footwear, pet leashes, backpacks — and the outgoing — recycling, trash, goodwill items.

I blame this general lack on the mostly-male architects and contractors. If women designed homes, they’d put a lot of thought into setting up the high-traffic entryway as a first-line stuff-sorting station within close proximity to the fridge and cupboards. This would go a long way to stop the pile-ups of groceries,paper and clothing before they get started. The kitchen counters would remain clear of clutter. The dining table just might get used for its intended purpose.

Whether it’s a 600-square-foot condo or a 6,000-square-foot mansion, every home could use something beyond the typical coat closet at the usual point of entry, so this area requires a little forethought after-the-fact. Installing a couple of attractive wardrobes near the entrance is a good start. A bench, for sitting while putting on or taking off shoes, is an important addition, especially if it’s a flip-top seat for storage, as is a mirror above for final wardrobe checks before heading outside.

But really, a truly efficient entry would also include a run of countertop above a cabinet, with a slot in the counter for feeding those pre-approved credit apps into a concealed paper shredder. A paper-recycling bin would live in a lower, pull-out shelf for easy removal.

A series of cubbies for each family member would be placed at an accessible level nearby for fast sorting, and a corkboard inset just above the counter would hold important family reminders. Beyond this paper-processing station would be a series of sturdy, sculpturally attractive wall hooks for bags and purses, followed by the coat closet with plenty of room for hanging shoe bags.

It’s a nice dream, and anyone living in under 1.000 square feet likely wouldn’t want to squander precious floor space for this convenience, but setting up even a small sorting/storing space near the entry pays back in the form of peace of mind.

Some solutions for tired popcorn ceilings

2009-03-09T20:33:00.000-07:00

ABOVE: Before, an uneven, water-stained popcorn ceiling and inefficient light fixtures dragged down this False Creek townhouse.
ABOVE: After, the ceiling was replaced with improved sound-proofing insulation, a light-bounching smooth ceiling, recessed lighting and crown moldings.

News of the 15-per-cent federal tax credit on renovations up to $10,000 has many condo-dwellers looking around their homes to see what needs to be improved first.
It may be time to look up.

As long as it isn’t falling, most of us tend to ignore our ceiling, but we notice them in other homes. The old popcorn ceilings, so popular in cheaper-built buildings, have a way of holding the place down. Chances are they’re grey, dusty and might even have a water stain or two. Many bear scars of ceiling fixtures of yore or bad patch-up jobs after they were removed.

The popcorn ceiling isn’t easy to restore to its new state, which, let’s face it, is no great feature to begin with. The patch-up gunk available in small tubs at your hardware store never quite matches the patterning of the original blown or rolled-on cellulose product and is inevitably too white once it’s applied.

In my popcorn-ceiling-infested building, some owners have had enough of the stalactite look and have painstakingly scraped it off, only to discover that the bumpy stuff has a purpose after all: to hide the uneven seams on the drywall. What started as a simple facelift became a pricey — and drywall-dusty — renovation to replace the ceiling altogether.

Some people choose to simply repaint their ceilings white, which effectively reduces the shadows, visually flattening the ceilings. That’s the good news. The bad news is that painting the popcorn makes it much more difficult to eventually remove, as it’s no longer a scrape-off job but a nasty sanding operation. (Ka-ching!)

Still, there’s nothing that lifts a tired, older apartment like a smooth, light-bouncing ceiling with recessed lighting, preferably set with dimmer switches. If the popcorn’s getting to you and the current tacky halogen track lighting — or worse, the $9.99 “nipple” ceiling fixture — is casting a pall on the place, it might be worth taking down the drywall altogether and installing a grid of four to eight pot lights before a smooth new ceiling is installed. The lights can bathe the entire room in light or be directed onto artwork, visually expanding the walls. And as all designers will tell you, lighting is everything.

Still not convinced that ceilings are a worthy condo reno? While you’re at it, you can have the old insulation replaced with a superior sound-proofing product to reduce noise between the ceiling and floor above.

Bring some of that shine indoors

2009-03-02T19:10:00.000-08:00

Above: Glass vases, framed photos and coffee table add sparkle against a deep wall colour.

The trick to staying sunny in this watery part of the world is to bring a little sparkle into our own private spaces. That’s not so simple if your home is a typical shoebox-shaped condo with windows only along one short wall.

The obvious solution to brightening up the interiors is to paint the walls white. That’s fine if you like the stark gallery look or if all your cabinetry is white or if you’re planning to sell your home. But for most real-life interiors, the overall look is choppy and cold.

A better way to cut down the visual clutter while warming up the place is to coat the walls in a warm paint colour or two that integrates furnishings and cabinetry and defies the drab weather. Most wood cabinetry blends beautifully into the wide range of more saturated earth hues and jewel tones. The overall effect is a warmer visual temperature.

Living rooms and dining areas in the light-deficient home cry out for another layer of shine and sparkle to make that colour sing.

One of the best ways to get that visual pop is by installing or upgrading interior wood or wood-composite trims and painting them all a warm white to offset the wall colour. Plain doorways and windows, including sliding glass patio doors, can be easily framed in facings, and deep crown moldings can be added at the ceiling to provide more visual height. Wimpy baseboards can be upgraded to four-inch flat facings. Plain interior doors can be faced to create inner frame of thin wood stripping and painted white to pump up the otherwise dull interior architecture. Keep the facings simple and unfussy for a clean overall look.

Next, consider adding glass surfaces to bounce even the weakest light. This can be in the form of framed pictures on the wall or a glass-topped coffee table. Another option is to lay tempered glass, cut to fit at your neighbourhood auto glass shop, on top of an existing coffee table or side tables.

Décor items like vases, trays or bowls in high-shine metals , crystal, glass, or glazed pottery can dance the light around the room, especially when set in a cluster with tea lights or near another light source.

Finally, brighten up dark corners by bringing in a tall column of light, like a paper-shade floor lamp or torchiere and you’ll be basking in reflected glory.

Flat-screens challenge livingroom decor

2009-02-23T22:23:00.000-08:00

ABOVE: You can reduce the visual bulk of Don Cherry in your livingroom by building up the space around that large flat-screen.

I have a TV problem. I watch too much of it.

Even though I’ve moved the bulky old-style box out of the livingroom, and even though we don’t have cable, I still cease all meaningful activity to watch re-runs of shows I never liked the first time round. It needs to go, but I’m not the only one living around here; the Man of the House, only an occasional user of TV, likes the hockey — and dislikes my militant position.

So while I hope that we won’t bother buying the converter that all we free-cable types will need later this year just to get those same few stations, he’s talking brand-new flat-screen. I counter with reports from two repairmen that most of their work is on those LCD and plasma screens after the warranties run out. He shows me a wall space that would fit a screen perfectly.

Living TV-free isn’t really an option for most people. My clients call me in specifically to help them fit new 40-inch flatscreens into their tiny condo livingrooms, so suggesting they go without is not helpful. So instead I suggest ways to visually reduce the impact of the black shiny rectangle.

In the small condo livingroom, often the only option is hanging it above the gas fireplace (if any). A tilting wall-mount bracket is a pricey little add-on to the new flat-screen, but at least it’s off the floor and no longer blocking windows. That new-found floor space is better dedicated to additional seating, for more social activity and less physical emphasis on the sole pursuit of watching the idiot box.

But the fireplace mantle really is a last resort. A better option is to dedicate an entire wall for floor-to-ceiling shelving, with the TV installed at seated eye level. The surrounding books and other hefty items helps reduce the scale of the screen, and hides wiring easily. Ikea and Moe’s have a good selection of readymade options. Adding moldings on plain bookcases can reate a more built-in look.

My other suggestion is mounting it on a bare wall, surrounded by several framed artworks — posters, kids’ creations, enlarged photos — to visually downplay the TV. A selection of substantial frames in black and white creates just enough busy-ness to distract the eye from the TV. Restricting the wall to monochrome, high-graphic images and black-and-white photos will unify the look and punch up the decor.

Small-home tour yields tips at home show

2009-02-16T10:47:00.000-08:00

ABOVE: A clean, nature-inspired interior reflects the smart architecture of the Laneway Loft House, at the B.C. Home and Garden Show. Photo by Stuart Coleman

It’s one thing to read about the large possibilities of a very small home, and quite another to walk through a beautifully designed example. A decidedly West Coast, 624-square-foot prototype is the showpiece of the B.C. Home and Garden Show, running this Wednesday through Sunday at BC Place.

The Laneway Loft House, built by Vancouver’s own Smallworks Studios/Laneway Housing, is on the show floor now but could be appearing in a residential lane near you, if the city finally approves this form of neighbourhood densification-without-demolition.

This is no converted garage; the modern and airy lane house is designed to assume the same square footage as a single or double garage while taking advantage of a backyard landscape through large windows and varied views.

The ingenuity of this ultra-modern cottage is not just in the architecture and space-saving interior design but in the whole new set of social possibilities. This could be the delightful downsizer home for longtime owners who want to stay not only in their community, but on their own land. It could be the starter home built by parents for their kids as they start they start their own adult lives. It could be the hospitality suite for all the friends and family, or a rental unit to help offset the high mortgage of the existing house. The little house goes a long way to address the general problem of not having enough (relatively) affordable housing without severely altering the character of established neighbourhoods.

Smallworks interior designer Erica Letchford enjoys the challenge of getting a lot of living out of a small footprint. She relies on 24-inch-wide, counter-depth European appliances tucked into custom cabinetry and built-ins made in-house at Smallworks. Radiant-heated polished concrete flooring helps create a seamless flow between rooms, and details like well-planned potlights and a limited number of finishes, in natural materials like stone and bamboo keep the view uncluttered and contemporary.

Even though the Laneway Loft House isn’t a reality for most high-density-dwellers, there’s a lot to learn for anyone looking to renovate their small space. Other Laneway house ideas include an under-counter microwave oven that keeps the single run of countertop clear, and a kitchen island/bar on braked castors that can be moved according to need.

Tickets to the B.C. Home and Garden Show are at the door or online (where you can donate your discount to the United Way) at http://www.bchomeandgardenshow.com

A good year for minor renovations

2009-02-02T16:57:00.001-08:00

ABOVE: Updating a brassy ’80s fireplace can turn a so-so condo into a sweet suite. Photo courtesy of Valor Fireplaces

Last week in this space I predicted that in light of the recession, more of us will be socializing more at home or at other people’s homes. Since that writing, the Feds have handed out a perk for homeowners who want to perk up their places.

Designed to keep trades, suppliers and workers in primary industries like forestry in work, that perk comes in the form of a 15-per-cent Home Renovation Tax Credit (HRTC) for any renovation projects costing between $1,000 and $10,000, representing a maximum credit of $1,350.

Add to this incentive the sudden availability of tradespeople who had been sucked up into the local building boom, plus the lower interest rates and it’s clear that this as good a time as any to tackle those nagging little problem areas like a dowdy bathroom or dysfunctional kitchen.

There are some stipulations. First, it’s a temporary tax credit, as part of a short-term stimulus packages, so if you do plan to do some smaller renovations, this is not a time to procrastinate. The work must be performed or purchases made before next year — Feb. 1, 2010, to be exact. Considering the usual hiccups and delays that come with even the smallest renovations, it’s best to move from vague dreams of something ‘better’ to concrete plans, starting with gathering quotes for work and shopping around for goods.
Second, the credit does not apply to routine maintenance or repairs or to the purchase of furnishings, appliances, tools and electronic equipment.

Some examples of what’s eligible and what is not, specific to the condo dweller:
• New flooring or carpeting, but not carpet cleaning
• New bathroom fixtures, but not new furniture purchases
• New kitchen cabinetry, but not new appliances

Typical updates for the city condo or townhouse include removing non-load-bearing walls between kitchen and living areas, replacing wall-to-wall carpeting with hardwood, installing radiant heating and ceramic or stone tile in the bathroom, and replacing laminate kitchen countertop with stone.

Expenses can be shared with family members and tax credits may be claimed when homeowners file their 2009 income tax returns. Receipts for reno purchases or services are needed in case Revenue Canada comes a-knockin’.

Too bad it’s only a temporary credit; the receipts requirement just might convince some homeowners to get the job done above board instead of gambling on cheaper, under-the-table trades work that often leads to shoddy condo ‘ruinovations.’

New thinking is all about nesting

2009-01-26T07:54:00.000-08:00

ABOVE: Grandma’s souvenir spoon collection gets new respect as an enlarged photo, framed in a wide mat and set on a dining room wall. Carlyn Yandle photo

Whether we all planned on it or not, our personal consumption habits are suddenly going through a major shift. One of the first shifts is an attitude adjustment. Consider this new-think: Now is the time to enjoy what you’ve already acquired.
That includes your home, and all the little things inside it that make it a unique space, a reflection of you. (Already I can feel the cringing. If it’s any consolation, I’m typing this week’s column with my back against the kitchen so I don’t have to look at the piles of half-completed projects.)

I realize that nesting might be a foreign concept to many Vancouverites, who are more about Out There than In Here, but as attitudes shift toward dining in and entertaining at each others’ homes more, our interiors are going to become more important. ‘House-proud’ isn’t a descriptor just for little old ladies anymore.

Inviting a friend or neighbour over for tea is no longer a quaint notion, but a comfortable alternative to meeting up at the nearest Starbucks. That will lead to new thinking about how nice homemade num-nums would go with tea, and how you might make your home a little more presentable.

One of the first things I tackle when I’m organizing a home is collections, from stemware to sock monkeys, matchbooks to men’s pipes. Whether they’re taking over the place, like framed photos cluttering all available horizontal surfaces, or in deep hiding in the back of closets, collections are generally deemed too important to part with. My goal is to help the owner of the collections live with them in harmony. Often that means corralling family photos into an elegant book that lives on the coffee table or grouped into one big wall of family fame in a hallway. Other collections might be ‘recontextualized’ — presented in a new way — to enhance their form and number, like lining up a someone’s 20 pairs of must-have stilettos on floating glass shelves in the bedroom.

If you’d really rather part with a collection but want to honour it in some way, consider arranging each item in an interesting grouping, then taking a high-resolution photo which you can have enlarged and set in frame with a wide mat for dramatic effect. Hang the picture in a room that is most related, or in sharp contrast, to the collection — something for your guests to brew over at tea.

Living with pets should be a right for all

2009-01-19T16:50:00.000-08:00

Above: A place in the sun for grateful pets — and their happy owners.

If you live with a pet in an apartment or condo, you’ve probably already heard about the latest attempt to force longtime tenants to ditch their pets or hit the street. Your heart goes out to those West End cat owners, and you’re glad they’ve united to fight the building owner’s eviction threats.

The reported reason for the sudden demand is possible ‘lethal’ allergic reaction, which is in no way a tactic to kick out long-term tenants in order to jack the rents, you understand. I’ve yet to read a single report of death by cat exposure, but I do know that forcing people out of their homes or separating them from loved ones is detrimental to their emotional health. For those of us who share a life with a dog or cat, the mere idea that we must suddenly choose between pet and shelter is unimaginable.

Sure, there’s a sudden small surge in rental units, due to the tumultuous real estate market, but most owners of those individual condo-owners won’t accept pets or are tied to a no-pet-policy strata bylaw, for the usual reasons of noise or wear and tear.

The same bylaw could be applied to children, who are prone to making noise and spilling things.

A full life is not a still life, and the pet-friendly building I live in is proof of that. The dogs woof briefly when anyone walks past their door. The cats sometimes caterwaul during the wee hours. The wail of a fire truck siren provokes the hounds to howl.

Yet unlike no-pet-policy buildings, ours has an easy-going, friendly vibe. The dog-owners often end up doing their evening walks together. The cat owners tend to hang with their home-body pets — quite the opposite of those crash-pad residents you never meet. The building isn’t pristine and silent, but alive and warm with human (and canine and feline) activity, which includes keeping on top of pet issues. That means limiting the number of pets per unit, requiring that all pets be leashed in common areas, and addressing any incessant noise.

Pet-friendly buildings can maintain an attractive common-area décor by choosing materials with pets in mind, such as high-hiding patterned commercial-grade carpeting and water-repellent tile at all entrances.

We’ll be a truly civilized city when a no-pet policy is considered as much of a violation of basic human rights as a no-children policy.

Make room for a mid-winter dinner party

2009-01-12T17:49:00.000-08:00

ABOVE: A vase of berry branches and coloured drinking glasses is all that’s needed to create a perfectly simple dinner-party table.

My family wasn’t much for dinner parties, so when I moved into my first apartment in my early 20s, I turned to Martha Stewart for guidance. Suddenly I was swimming in tips for creating hand-written invitations and magazine-worthy table settings.

How times have changed. Martha recently demonstrated the fine art of serving macaroni-and-cheese-topped wieners — in store-bought buns.

Just as the Martha machine has tweaked some of its content, I’ve also simplified what goes into a dinner party and have given up those half-baked plans to go full-Martha.

Really, any guest you’d want over for dinner isn’t there for starched linens, matching china or cut crystal but good company and conversation. A dining table isn’t even required as long as everyone has a comfortable seat.

If you’ve got the big challenge of little space for entertaining, consider entertaining buffet style, allowing your guests to serve themselves then take their plates to the living room where they can park their glass of wine or plate on a handy surface.

Set up the buffet by pushing your dining table against one wall to allow for maximum foot traffic. If the table is deep (square or round), start by stacking up a couple of phone books or other thick, flat items near the wall side to create a more easily accessible tiered table. Cover the platforms with a tablecloth or, failing that, a crisp flat bed sheet. If you have a hanging light fixture over the dining table, reposition it on a new ceiling hook above your buffet, or, if that’s not possible, shorten the length so it doesn’t bonk the heads of your dinner guests.

If you don’t even have a dining table, use the most accessible part of the kitchen counter. Line up the items logically starting with plates and ending with any sauces or condiments, and a set of cutlery wrapped in a napkin for each guest. Do break the bank and buy some pretty paper napkins if you don’t have a cloth set; paper towels don’t cut it.

Finally, keep the menu simple. A hearty pasta and a tossed salad is sufficient. Avoid difficult dishes that must be prepared moments before you serve. If you like the idea of courses, add a soup starter or a cheese plate that can be reintroduced at dessert with some fresh fruit.

Make your dinner party a potluck and it just might become a weekly event.

Upcycling project puts packaging to good use

2009-01-05T16:30:00.000-08:00

ABOVE: This small ‘idea board’ has enough textural detail to stand alone as wall art.

Over the holidays I was shocked by all the polystyrene (aka Styrofoam) packaging blocks piled up on the overflowing city dumpsters around my neighbourhood, all indicative of the tsunami of electronic toys and communication devices purchased for Christmas.

Despite the number-6 triangular stamp on each piece indicating that it’s recyclable — it’s just air-blown plastic, after all — polystyrene is not accepted in the blue bins in this neck of the woods, so all that bulky, non-biodegradable stuff ends up in the landfill. If I ran the zoo, I’d make all stores that sell items containing the rigid foam packaging accept it back like any other returnable. Until everyone starts following my orders, I’ve come up with a useful, attractive use for these space-hogging blocks.

I’ve long been intrigued by Styrofoam as a potential building material. It’s easy to carve and glue together, it’s incredibly light and matte white — all fine properties for domestic use. So while everybody else played with their new toys on Boxing Day, I played with polystyrene, cutting down the bulky pieces into various square-ish units, assembling the blocks into patterns, affixing the patterns to surfaces. What resulted is now a key part of my dream studio: a large, lightweight, wall-mounted surface for all my clippings, ideas and mementoes. I so love the architectural effect of all those white, various-sized squares and shadows that I’m tempted to create an entire wall, affixing the squares with double-sided tape directly to the wall.

Here’s how to make your own ‘idea board’:

Gather up hunks of polystyrene. Using a steak knife or bread knife dipped in dishwashing liquid, saw out as many square or rectangular units as you can eke out of each piece. Keep the knife well-lubricated and the saw action fast and light. Rinse the units and let dry. Glue the back of one unit with household white glue (never hot glue), like Welbond, onto a piece of thin plywood or heavy-duty cardboard or particleboard. Add the odd-sized units one at a time, positioning them snugly beside one another to avoid any gaps. Keep adding until the units hang over the edges of the wood. Let the glue dry overnight then trim the excess to the board edge with the knife.

***

Catch my demonstration of this fun upcycling project this weekend at the Home Renovation and Living Show at the Vancouver Convention and Exhibition Centre. More details at showscanada.net.

Simple pleasures are the best

2008-12-24T16:36:00.000-08:00

ABOVE: A simply gorgeous seasonal décor incorporates multiples of re-usable items and natural elements like twigs.

Maybe it’s all the glistening snow out there, but it seems like this Christmas is going to be nothing like those of recent memory. We may be going back in time, to the days when there was less stuff and more need for a little merry-making.

Even though we’re all being bombarded with the usual cellphone commercials, my hunch is that most people will be expecting a lot less and giving a little more from the heart this year.

I’ve even unearthed the cookie cutters and pried open the Christmas cookie card box that hasn’t seen the light of day since the early ’90s. I can’t promise to actually produce homemade shortbread as gifts, but I’m willing to at least partake in this new trend toward a traditional, simple celebration when it comes to gift-giving, decorating and entertaining.

Getting to simple isn’t so simple. It requires some steely convictions against the bombardment of buy-buy-buy and gimme-gimme campaigns, launched by both sophisticated marketing firms and highly-expectant loved ones. And it demands us to question our own sense of entitlement, whether it’s around diamond earrings, an X-Box 360 or an iPhone.

Getting to simple requires forethought and reflection, especially at moments of weakness, like when a luxurious collection of Christmas tree ornaments is offered at 50 per cent off. You have to stop and ask: Do you have space to store them? How many ornaments do you have already that you’re unwilling to let go?

Simple pleasures are the best, like gathering pinecones on a walk with friends and wiring them (the pinecones, not the friends) into small wreaths. Or giving bags of birdseed to visiting family members before going to Lost Lagoon to feed the birds then returning home for hot chocolate. Or decking the halls by re-purposing household items like a large glass bowl filled with favourite Christmas balls or a string of lights. Or setting the table for company, with the special linens and dishes, enhancing it with tealights and tiny bundles of cedar wrapped in ribbon on each plate, then serving a lasagna made the day before and a green salad, or a brunch casserole and fruit salad.

It’s about distinguishing between what we want and what we need, for ourselves and others. And at this time of year, during these strange economic times, what we need is some comfort and joy. My half-baked idea of cellophane-wrapped shortbread cookies is simply a start.

Stage your space - for yourself

2008-12-15T11:38:00.000-08:00

ABOVE: This windowless storeroom was transformed into an enticing arts and crafts studio.

This is the fourth — and last — installment of my Shovel Out the Premises plan. Those who undertook this brave task of clearing out the clutter before Christmas know it’s not easy to part with things that come with a back story or a memory. But if my studies of Feng Shui (okay; speed-reading at Chapters one rainy afternoon) tells me anything it’s that we must release old stuff and the old thinking attached to them in order to make room for new ideas and experiences.

Congratulations if you’ve banished all the junk piles from your home. (If you’ve relapsed a bit, you can catch those past step-by-step columns at my blog at homereworks.com.) Now comes the fun part: staging your newfound space like a pro, except the goal here isn’t to sell your home but learn to love it again — because you deserve a nice home as much as the next guy.

Start by hanging out in one newly empty room. What do you want to happen here? Is it a place for creative pursuits? Reading or watching movies? Hanging with friends? Meditation? If you can dream it, you can create it.

The key to a successful room is making it truly fit your desired function and celebrating that use in the decor. Take the room pictured here. This former storeroom was transformed into an arts and crafts studio by first relocating an extra table to the room’s centre for all-sides access. An area carpet on a thick underlay makes standing easier on the knees. A bank of low Ikea bookshelves along one wall adds further workspace area while the shelving below stores various art supplies in full view. A collection of embroidery hoops is stored on the wall, adding a light, airy décor to this windowless room and a large plastic pail full of art papers serves as a functional bouquet. Some favourite art paper was set in a few spare picture frames to further inspire the dweller who dreamed this space. Enticing displays of materials and projects-in-progress in baskets on the table make this room almost irresistible.

If your dream is an ‘away’ room, you could anchor the space with a cozy armchair and storage ottoman, a favourite throw over the chair arm, a good-sized side table and a reading lamp. Add an electric kettle, a music system or a small TV and settle in. Well done.

Clear those decks before you deck the halls

2008-12-08T10:44:00.000-08:00

ABOVE: Gifting some of your household treasures is an important part of the de-clutter process. This vintage teacup set and handmade doily packaged up with some quality loose-leaf tea and a shiny new teaball makes a thoughtful gift.

If you’ve been following this column, you’ll know this is the third installment in my plan for clearing the decks before the holiday season. If you’re following the plan, you may have a small mountain of filled, labeled file boxes in what used to be your dining room — and mounting anxiety.

Don’t despair; this is all part of getting back the nice home you deserve. Wipe out all other commitments for one day (take a sick day if you have to), grab a pack of clear jumbo plastic bags and a trusted friend, and get down to those four categories of boxes: Keep; Throw Away (for trash or recycling); Give Away (to friends or goodwill); and I Don’t Know.

Start with the ‘Throw Away’ stack. You’ll notice that everything inside is truly junk. Nobody wants broken things and parts of other things. Throw any paper into one clear jumbo bag (rip up any personal info), any other recylcables in another, and the rest in a trash bag. Keep those big bags nearby; you’re not through with them yet.

Move onto the ‘Give Away’ stack. Take a big breath and remind yourself that holding onto every old thing is the thin edge of the hording edge, which got you into this whole mess. Know that you will not love your sister any less if you part with a craft she made you in 1992. Unless you deem any “treasures” particularly significant to your being, decide who might enjoy them more. Set them aside for gifting. Re-designate some newly empty file boxes as “Gift for Friends of the Library” and fill them with all good-condition, current-interest and quality books and magazines, DVDs and CDs. Say bye-bye to the remaining dust-collectors as you place them in a goodwill bag for someone else to discover.

The ‘I Don’t Know’ collection inevitably includes a lot of wires and cables — sort into a box labeled something appropriate like ‘Electronic Bits’ and store — and important-looking documents and receipts. (Store in a labeled box to be dealt with later.) Quickly move the leftovers into an appropriate jumbo bag.

Finally, attack the ‘Keep’ stack. Your trusted friend can help you quickly decide what’s really a keeper. Keep filling those goodwill and recycling bags. Release things into the world to create space for new energy to flow into your home and life.

Once all the stacks of boxes have been sorted, drag the bags and boxes to the front door to remind you to take one with you as you leave. Bring the library boxes to any branch during and the goodwill bags to a thrift store only during opening hours.

Next week: Staging your own new-found space like a pro.

Simple plan clears out cramped quarters

2008-12-01T10:17:00.001-08:00

ABOVE: Less is more: This custom-built shelf displays the owner’s favourite few objects. Carlyn Yandle photo

Last week in this space I made the link between contending with the blues and living in a cluttered, cramped space. This week, some hope for those who feel hopeless about their homes.

Say it with me: I deserve a nice home. Say it as you purchase several packets of flattened file boxes with lids, repeat it as you call that one non-judgmental friend to lend a hand for a designated day. By the end of that day you will have created one room for all the things you used to like to do in your home, whether it’s reading, sleeping, watching TV, socializing, or making stuff. Envision yourself enjoying that clear, restful space.

Start the day by putting out the tea and cookies and putting on your favourite music. Carve out one space for stacking boxes. It will probably be the dining area, since the table is likely too laden down with stuff for actual dining. Move the table into the living room and tape four pieces of paper in a line on the dining area wall: Keep, Throw Away (for trash or recycling), Give Away (to friends or goodwill), and I Don’t Know.

Roll up your sleeves and get ready to tackle the tsunami of stuff in that one room that will be your sanctuary. The goal is to empty the room — quickly. Assemble four boxes, label each one according to the wall signs, and place them on the floor.

Without deliberating over each item, or launching on the backstory of how it came into your possession, drop it into one of the boxes of your choice. When a box is full, put the lid on it and move it to under the appropriate sign in the stacking area, then bring in a new box. Repeat.

Next, the furniture. Decide what is vital to the future use of the room. Move the space-wasters out to the stacked-boxes area.

Take a tea break in the room and imagine the possibilities, then re-introduce only your favourite items and essentials. Set the room up as if for a magazine spread. Maybe take a picture.

Keep up the positive momentum and plan another day for another room so that in a few weeks you have worked through your entire home, clearing out the clutter and amassing a stack of full file boxes.

Next week: Banishing those boxes in time for the holidays.

Clutter-related sadness is common

2008-11-25T07:18:00.000-08:00

ABOVE: Cluttered confines can contribute to seasonally-affected mood disorders.

As I write this, gold and red leaves are falling on a sunny, cloudless day. But by the time you read this, we’re all more likely to be soaking in the beginning of five months of gunmetal-grey sog.

Not that I’m complaining, but just in case, I’m taking my 1,000 IUs of Vitamin D in hopes it will ward off Mr. Seasonal Depression from a-knocking on my noggin. Too many people I know suffer from some sort of blues as the ho-ho-holiday season approaches.

However, I do have to fight the urge to lay low during these dark days — like my dog — or move on to warmer climes until the days get brighter and longer, like the first peoples of yore or the snowbird retirees of today. There remains the small problem of paying the bills, so most of us have to face the typical seasonal triggers: stress, overwork, dwindling daylight hours, lack of physical activity, over-eating or the guilt-inducing so-very-merry Christmas-shopping campaigns. There’s also one overlooked trigger: a cluttered homefront.

During the warmer months we’re more likely to turn our backs on our own indoors, but when the gloomy weather sets in, it’s harder to ignore the mounting problems in our homes. It might be a too-dark interior or a dysfunctional kitchen, but most likely it’s the accumulation of too much stuff that oppresses and depresses. It hits when you come home after a hard day’s work; what used to be your refuge, your pride and joy, has become a sort of giant storage unit crammed with stacks of paperwork, mementoes, clothes, magazines, dishes, photos, what-have-you. It’s all too much to even entertain the idea of entertaining and soon you’re so ashamed you hope no one will stop by. You know you’ve lost the war when the stuff is no longer a collection of individual units requiring a keep-it/get-rid-of-it decision but a force that’s overwhelmed you to the point of exhaustion. That state of mind leads to paralysis and the stuff continues to pile up.

Clutter-related depression is real, and a major subject on numerous sites like MyDepressionConnection.com where clutter/depression-sufferers write about feeling small and boxed in by all their stuff.

Like any wellness program, combating clutter requires a plan. Next week I set out some structure for clearing the decks — and the mind — to make way for a social holiday season at home and a bright, hopeful new year.

Seasonal markets bring joy to shopping

2008-11-17T09:06:00.000-08:00

ABOVE: Check out the sweet Buddha Bowls created by White Rock’s Elan Falvai that made Oprah Magazine’s O-list, at the One of A Kind Show at BC Place Nov. 20-23.

‘The market’ is getting a very — very— bad name these days. The word conjures up images of overfed white men in ties pulling out their last remaining hairs while they scan all the down arrows crawling across the digital signs.

Like most people, I’m emotionally detached from all the hysteria but remain fully engaged in the more tangible market, the one that trades in foodstuff or goods. There’s no dealing in futures here, but your local market does ensure a future economy. The humble beginning of a market is the first sign of hope after war or natural disaster strikes. Given a chance, it blooms into a vibrant hub of activity and healthy livelihoods.

Whether it’s a Sunday farmers’ market, an early-morning fish market, junky flea market, long-running antiques market, or seasonal crafts market, shopping at a market anywhere in the world is a personal choice in more ways than one. It’s a chance to meet the people who make/catch/find the goods. You get a pretty good idea about where your money is going.

But market-shopping is also a political act. By choosing to shop at the street level you are not supporting unfair working conditions, environmentally irresponsible manufacturing processes or long-haul shipping. This kind of shopping does not make a very few very rich off of others’ poorly-paid labour.

The market is the hearth of any community, and the annual Circle Craft show that wrapped up this weekend marks the beginning of this giving season. I view the seasonal markets as a chance to pick up unique items for all the birthdays, weddings, house-warmings, baby showers coming up next year, as well as the usual household necessities like dishes and linens. One of my trusted sources for news on local fairs is http://magpieandcake.blogspot.com/ Below are the latest two seasonal biggies:

• Check out the new kid in town, the One of A Kind Show at BC Place Nov. 20-23, boasting works by more than 150 artisans that are new or not part of other markets this season. Tickets are $10, or $8 at www.oneofakindvancouver.com

• The very funky Portobello West Fashion and Design Market, coming up Nov. 30 — followed up by a Christmas fair on Dec. 13 and 14 — hosts at Rocky Mountaineer Station, just west of Home Depot. ($2 gets you in, noon to 6 p.m.)

What about homes for all?

2008-11-10T07:46:00.000-08:00

ABOVE: The brightly coloured $1500 64-square-feet home prototypes displayed at Granville Island fulfill some basic human needs.

A close family member has been basically couch-surfing for seven months since she sold her large condo and bought and renovated a smaller townhouse.

It was a wise move that wiped out her mortgage, but this transient period has shown her — and the rest of the family — that when you don’t have a stable home, you don’t function well. You become detached from your routines, your social network, your productivity, your self-determination.

Imagine what it’s like to be one of the 2660 truly homeless people in Metro Vancouver, counted this spring by Greater Vancouver Regional Steering Committee in March — 450 more than three years ago. Even if you’re an otherwise healthy, clean and sober employable individual, you don’t have the personal resources to fully participate in society when you don’t have your own, stable space you can go to retreat, sleep, eat, heal, think, groom, create, nest, or connect.

I don’t understand why the Canadian government is not required to provide a minimum level of housing access to all its people, in the same way that it must provide medical access. I’m talking something beyond barracks or the mattress-on-the-shelter-floor setup: small self-contained, fully insulated structures that could be easily moved to occupy under-used lands wherever they’re most needed.

A third-year class of Emily Carr University design students has been displaying just that home at Granville Island for the past month. Each of the four prototypes take on the challenge of constructing a maximum-use space in 64 square feet, on a budget of no more than $1500, and using pine beetle wood and 30 per cent recycled materials.

I spent some time inside each one of those prototypes, absorbing some of the cost-savers, like re-used windows and single-pitch roofs. The interior designs include some clever features like stepped shelving that leads up to a bed, taking advantage of the rising heat from below while providing an alcove below to break up the boxy dimensions.

The little houses could be set up as a community, maybe grouped around a resource centre to tackle all the other issues of poverty like work options, clothing bank, library/computer access, health clinic and daycare.

Both Vancouver mayoral candidates know this election’s all about reducing homelessness. I’d like to hear what they think of adding little houses for some of the more than 1500 people in their own city who can’t find a place to call home.

Rethinking our consumption patterns

2008-10-27T20:43:00.000-07:00

ABOVE: Two high-cost problems solved through creative thinking: A bargain end-of-season outdoor dining set, simple matchstick blinds, wood-slat floor mats and paper lampshades together turn a covered back porch into a reason to play restaurant at home.

There's something strangely comforting in the news that Americans — and Canadians to a lesser extent — are suddenly forced to live within their means. Too bad it’s taken a morally corrupt mortgage-lending scheme, 9-11, and global warming to get here.

'Here’ feels like the end of the giddy, greedy era of unrealistic expectations and the beginning of a new sensibility where we’re not just consumers anymore. We’re getting back to the financial basics, and starting to rethink our needs. Some people will do this on their own; others will need some shock therapy, like seeing their line of credit disappear or their mortgage application denied.

Living within one’s means is not just about reducing spending on goods that used to feel like necessities but are really luxuries, like flat-screen TVs or dinners out, but questioning every purchase: Do I need this or is this just retail therapy? Will this item last or will I dump it in a few years? Do I need to buy this or could I borrow one instead?

It’s not a bargain if you don’t need it, my grandmother used to say, but she developed her spending habits in the era before credit cards stopped that thinking. These days, questioning our consumer habits takes a lot more willpower because the credit card companies depend on consumer debt.

Beyond questioning our habits and their marketing, we have to think creatively. One way is to consider our collective power.

For example, our apartment building recently bought a pressure washer that individual owners can sign out from a strata council member to clean their own decking, saving us all the cost of renting or purchasing (and storing) our own pressure washers. The same could go for a carpet steam cleaner, a box of tools or a couple of bicycles.

We need to consider the power of vast, instant communication that enables us to, for example, use Facebook to see who might have an extra set of barstools they’d like to unload or a suitcase they’d be willing to lend. Both my sisters found the exact baby carriers they wanted on Craigslist for a fraction of the retail price, and for those with no cash at all there’s the swap/trade listings.

Finally, we need to rethink our activities. I’ll take an at-home dinner party over an expensive restaurant, or a trek through the Seymour Demonstration Forest over the mall any day.

Pacific Rim esthetic clear in design show

2008-10-20T14:06:00.000-07:00

ABOVE: Multifunctional furniture for small urban spaces, made of birch plywood and organic wool by Emily Carr’s future designers Emily Lin, David Cha, and Michael Johnson. Carlyn Yandle photo

I have a dream that all the stuff we buy for our homes is designed and made locally, out of local materials and ingredients from nearby farms instead of far-off nations, for our local esthetic.

I dream of furniture made of wood from our forests, hardware from local manufacturers, and wool and hides from animals that grew up around here.

Nothing against China, but I’d like to support a wide range of industries that reduces shipping and encourages regional identity. It’s a big dream, but this week I caught a glimpse of possibility at the current show in the main space at Emily Carr University of Art + Design, at Granville Island.

The exhibit is a retrospective of innovative furnishings, household items and toys created by the latest graduating design students, all served up on a long table decked out with wine glasses, candles and mismatched chairs tucked into the white tablecloth.

The layout conveys a design feast for the eyes, but to me it’s dishing out hope for something other than the giant tsunami of the usual plastic crap from half-way around the world as featured in big-box retailers. Instead, here elegant lamps of birch veneer resemble seashells and whimsical rocking toys look like sculpture. Small flat packs of thin plywood unfold into voluptuous vessels, and models of alternative dwelling construction suggest maximum use for the minimum amount of materials. The entire spread engages the viewer, challenging the usual understanding of lamp or toy or bowl or house. It’s all about thinking differently about materials and environmental ethics.

The show is also further example of what I view as a Pacific Rim esthetic. Due in part to trans-Pacific people-migration, Vancouver has become more akin to the design sensibilities of other Pacific Coasts than the rest of Canada. From Sapporo to Singapore to Sydney to San Francisco, we share a psychological connection to our Rim-side mountainous topography and are drawn to design that reflects and reacts to our watery part of the world. We build for the same mild, wet conditions. Bright colours that dance in the deserts look downright gaudy here, competing with our cool-blue, grey-green physical environment while the stone and brick foundation of dry-cold Canada leaves us clammy and bone-damp. We need light, breathable wood, sleek, understated design and natural texture — just what this school’s newest generation of mostly-Pacific Rim designers have laid out on the table.

Turn your ‘unit’ into your home

2008-10-13T13:10:00.000-07:00

ABOVE: Real homes reflect the long-term view of their owners to use the best quality finishes they can afford. One source for inspiration is this feature kitchen at the Home + Interior Design Show this weekend. Photo courtesy Home + Interior Design Show

HERE'S A LITTLE SOMETHING I’ve noticed since the real estate market started slumping this year: City condo-owners are starting to view their property as a home — their home — as opposed to a commodity to be used to trade up.

Suddenly I’m hearing from home-owners who are looking for help to enjoy actually living in their properties for years to come as opposed to dressing them up to lure the next buyer.

It’s more proof of the social upside that comes with a downsliding market. People are jumping off the gimme-gimme roller-coaster and are starting to reassess what they what and what they need. And what we all really need as we’re reeling from the urgent news of a global banking crisis is a retreat from it all. We may have wanted more square footage last year; this year we need more peace of mind.

You can tell the difference between a commodity-property and a real home the moment you step inside, whether it’s a 500-square-foot Yaletown studio apartment or a sprawling 5,000-square-foot custom-built mansion at the top of West Van. Real homes don’t have a massive $4,000 bathtub that would run the hot water tank cold before it’s half full. Real homes have half-burned candles near the human-sized bathtub. Real homes don’t have the cheapest new lino or carpeting or basic-beige wall paint, selected simply for selling but the most long-lasting, quality finishes the owners can afford.

Commit to your living space and you’re free of the usual advice to keep it all neutral and impersonal. Build that family/friends photo wall-of-fame in the front hall. Paint each room a different colour — it’s only paint. Turn your dining area into your art studio, or the enclosed balcony into a library, complete with deep-comfort armchair. Create a minimalist Japanese-style living room, with only floor cushions and a low square table in the middle. You are only bound by your imagination. When you hear the cautious side of the brain tell you this is no way to increase selling appeal, turn up the iPod and clear the dance floor.

If you need inspiration, hit the Home + Interior Design Show that starts today (Thursday) at 4 p.m., continuing through Sunday at BC Place Stadium. Tickets are $14 per adult, but if you have a printer, you can save $2 by buying your tix online (and get more deets) at http://www.vancouverhomeandinteriordesignshow.com.

Dynamic focal point gives room soul

2008-10-06T10:30:00.000-07:00

ABOVE: The living room came alive when the lone framed poster on this mantle was moved off centre and joined by a happy clutter of red treasures of various sizes and forms.

I’ve heard it both ways: God lives in the details, or, the devil lives in the details. Either way, the point’s been made: Details count.

A room can be tricked out in high-end furnishings and a designer colour scheme can’t but still feel sort of lacking. The missing detail: a focal point.

We’re so dazzled by our spectacular city setting that we don’t see the need for an interior focal point. But even if you are lucky enough to have a full wall of floor-to-ceiling windows of one of those views, that’s not a focal point; it’s a backdrop. Unless you like the airport-departure-lounge seating configuration, you’ve got to look within, back to some feature of human scale.

Traditionally, it’s the fireplace. Just the idea of heat draws people (and furniture) close, while the household treasures on the mantle spark quiet conversation. But the fireplace in many new condos often doesn’t provide that emotional draw because that’s where the TV lives, which means furnishings have to be pushed back in order to watch the higher-than-usual tube without neck strain. Suddenly the intimate furniture grouping is gone, and the focal point — a black glass box flashing images of brain-numbing reality shows — is devoid of soul.

In a recent column I suggested maybe losing the TV from the main living area altogether — a heretic notion, I know. But to those committed to creating a truly warm, welcoming retreat space, it may be worth weaning off the living room box.

What you get in return is a mantle that can be (and was) used as a rotating reflection of the season, creative expression and important personal events. Consider using that space to feature an ever-changing ‘bricolage’, a loose and quirky arrangement of found and favourite objects. This month it might be a large vase filled with chestnuts surrounded by pinecones and a large framed photo of your dog running through the fall leaves. Or it could be your impulsive salute to all things white. Or round. Consider the mantle your — or your household’s — blank canvas to create, reflect, then re-create. As you play with the pieces, the process starts to play with your artistic side.

If you don’t have a mantle, consider installing a deep, free-floating shelf above the sofa or across a lost corner, or carve out a few eye-level shelves in a centrally-located bookcase. The more surface area, the greater the impact.

Mini freezer a fresh idea

2008-09-29T08:53:00.000-07:00

ABOVE: Mini freezers make ‘putting food by’ possible for small-space-dwellers.

SINCE LAST SUNDAY, when the Man of the House and I returned from an Okanagan weekend road-trip loaded down with fresh fruit, I’ve been whining, “I wish we had a freezer!”

I never used to care about freezers, viewing them as space-hogging energy-suckers, but I’ve had a serious change of heart.

Like a growing number of people in these parts, I’m avoiding produce that entails intercontinental travel and am trying to eat seasonally, shopping from the freshest stuff at my local farmers’ market and re-thinking my ‘need’ for luxuries like avocados. (I said re-thinking.) But as the markets wind down for another year and the BC nectarines disappear with the hot weather, I’m in full hoarding mode. The fridge freezer is already packed with bags of Vancouver blackberries, Langley blueberries and bucked-up Oliver peaches. I may have hoarded enough to keep us in morning yogurt fruit smoothies all winter, but I know some of it will be lost to freezer burn by February. I like my fruit fresh, and frozen is the next best thing. So I whine.

My mother-in-law suggested back in the 20th century that we get a deep-freeze freezer. “I couldn’t live without one,” she said.

I pictured the prized sofa-sized units in the Italian neighbours’ houses back when I was a kid. I remember teetering on the edge of the deep-freeze while on Popsicle-hunting expeditions, digging around the great hunks of game from real hunting expeditions.

I couldn’t see it in our condo.

But this wasn’t quite what my mother-in-law had in mind. Her mini-freezer might not suit an extended Italian family household, but if one of her family members shows up bearing a whole fresh spring salmon or 10 pounds of tomatoes, she can take it. Having a freezer means she can double her lasagna recipe and put one dish by so she’s ready if unexpected guests arrive, or someone’s just had a baby.

Her freezer is tucked away in her in-suite storeroom, but at just under three feet wide and under two feet deep, it could also fit in a deep closet, at the end of a kitchen counter, or, depending on strata bylaws, under cover on a deck (away from sun). Two feet of clearance space above the unit is required for access.

At last check both Costco and Home Depot carry a chest-style white compact freezer by Danby for about $250.

Sellers’ glut a good time to take stock

2008-09-22T16:34:00.001-07:00

ABOVE: It’s hard to ignore the obvious signs of a glut of properties for sale.

IF YOU'RE ONE OF THOSE who are kicking themselves for not selling their condo or townhouse a year ago, take a deep breath. Then take a good look around.

You’ll notice there’s a record glut of “units” all looking for buyers at the moment, and many of those home-owners don’t have a chance of getting close to their asking price.

You might want to view this as a sign. This could be a good time to hang tight and work on making the most of your home instead of worrying about what might have been.

If you are determined to sell, it’s clear that the days of simply straightening up the joint are over. The slightest imperfection — a cracked bathroom mirror, a broken bi-fold door — could be a deal-breaker. And even if everything is in good running order, landing a buyer may come down to something as elusive as a feeling.

You know the feeling; it’s that I-could-live-here non-quantifiable that hits us every once in a while. It’s less likely to be the result of staging tricks, like the bubble bath, the Sunday New York Times spread out on the bed, the jazz filtering in the background, the aroma of fresh baked cookies or coffee. That good feeling is more likely to come from the same things that have you bent on selling: space to entertain, in-suite storage, more natural light, a kitchen two can work in, or a usable balcony.

You can’t grow more square footage for these perks, but you can clear the decks.

Consider that when apartment-hunters come to an open house, they’re already slightly disoriented from the walk through the unfamiliar common areas. The last thing they need upon entering your unit are more visual barriers like side tables, bookcases and shoe racks. Those tables and racks might be useful to you, but they’re impediments to viewers, so plan accordingly.

Also be aware that your Tuscany or urban-street décor style may be off-putting to others, so dial the décor down to clean and versatile. Stay away from fussy tile patterns or fad wallpaper. They may speak to you, but they may scream at others.

If you’re unsure where to begin, bring in an impartial third party to help identify problem areas. It’s amazing how blind we become to the detractions of our own homes, like popcorn ceilings or shabby lino in the bathroom.

When good de-cluttering goes bad

2008-09-16T06:56:00.000-07:00

ABOVE: Has this room gone too far? Clean lines and neutral colours are restful, but they can also put people to sleep.

LAST WEEK I SUGGESTED that the time to embrace the ‘less is more’ idea is nigh, as most of us are taking a small financial beating on one front or another anyway.

But learning to love less — less driving, less dinners out, less clothes-shopping, less amusements, less gadgets — can get out of hand too. Lately I’ve felt myself fall into a sort of visual anorexia as I work to create rooms that are so devoid of visual clutter that they’re downright barren.

Maybe it’s the number of homes I’ve refreshed, or maybe it’s just my reaction to the state of the world these days, but I think I may be getting a little overzealous in the de-clutter department. I’ve suddenly fallen in love with blank, well-lit gallery-white walls. I have a hankering to hang large blank primed stretched canvases everywhere but worry that the effect might be too busy. I envision an empty, pearl-grey room with a large white shag carpet on the floor and think: Done!

I’ve decorating myself into a corner, and if I acted on any of my white-out fantasies I would be decorating myself right out of business. Less is more, but less can also be less.

How did I end up in this pursuit of nothingness? The first thing I do when I’m asked to tackle a living space, usually for the purposes of selling, is to start removing layers. The top layer is just stuff — the bits of life that collect on and under all available surfaces over time. The next layer is the soft furnishings, like piles of cushions, outdated swag curtains or throw rugs. Once I have unearthed the furniture, I move out all the non-essential extra side tables, dinky bookcases and wall shelves and sconces. Finally, I tackle the non-material clutter, such as a busy colour scheme, replacing it with something crisp and fresh, which I admit is inevitably some sort of white. I bring in shiny accents, but use sparingly.

I only realized I had a problem after I reviewed some photos of a recent staging. One sterile image after another revealed rooms completely devoid of personality, and with all the romance of a dentist’s office. I raced back to the condo and threw some colour around, as if I was reviving a fainter with fruit juice.

I’ve teetered on the precipice and stared into the décor void, but I’m back now.

Rising cost of living a wake-up call

2008-09-08T15:26:00.000-07:00

ABOVE: Less is more: replace the clutter of bottles with two pretty pump bottles, one each for shampoo and conditioner.

YOU CAN FEEL IT IN THE WET COAST AIR. The rising cost of living is starting to affect us. As the price of gas, food, tuition, insurance and utilities increases, first we sink into denial. We don’t want to know what our property is worth this year compared to last, or what’s at the bottom of our latest credit card statement.

But suddenly it hits us: we can’t afford that weekend getaway, that daily morning latte, that new computer. We’ve gone from going out a couple of nights a week to renting more DVDs and staying in. First comes denial, then comes anger.

We’re not getting what we want, or think we need. Worse, we’re practically born into the belief that we can have it all, and we celebrate those who display ambition to have it all.

We’re nowhere near the next stage: acceptance, the place we need to be in order to begin moving forward.

In a free-market economy there’s no incentive to stem the gimme-gimme urge. There’s no public campaign to encourage people to grow or preserve their own food, or resist spending on frivolous items. BC Hydro may be asking us to get Power Smart, but the phone and cable companies keep urging us to buy more service.

You can see it in our homes. Most are cluttered with non-essentials, yet many of those home-dwellers are cash-poor. That’s a lifetime of buy-buy-buy conditioning for you, and it starts as soon as baby recognizes the Golden Arches.

We need to do a little more than recycle plastic bottles; we need to channel our grandmothers and learn to live with less useless stuff.

This is the perfect time of year to start separating ‘want’ from ‘need’ around the typically cluttered homefront. Prepare to start falling in love with the notion that less is more.
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• Pare your closet down to just your favourite clothes, and enjoy the new-found space.

• Don’t buy unnecessary items just because they’re on sale. There are always sales. Memorize this mantra: It’s not a bargain if you don’t need it.

• Amass and assess: Pull together every bottle of shampoo and conditioner. Vow to use what you already have before purchasing another bottle. Do the same with all other consumable clutter, from housecleaning products to condiments.

• Save up for purchases, and purchase well, with quality and longevity in mind.

• Retail therapy is so over.

Natural landscape inspires table decor

2008-09-01T14:24:00.000-07:00

ABOVE: This long-lasting centerpiece captures a bit of the unspoiled Gulf Islands. Sandra Madden photo

On the last day of vacation in the country, my hugging arms have to be pried from the nearest tree.

I drag myself back to town, weighed down by as many bits of the natural world as I can carry. I love city-living, but when I’m in the thick of the coastal rainforest or the dry sagebrush mountains, I think: I could stay here. I haven’t gone through my Back to the Land phase; maybe this is the time.

Then the rain and the cold returns and I’m thankful for all the mod-cons and dry comfort of condo life.

But I do have a lot of reminders around the place. There’s the bowl of white river rocks, the moonshell collection, the gnarled twigs from a fallen arbutus in a white jug. All these natural, miraculous forms seem to combat the concrete and drywall and fumes from traffic and tailpipes, paints and perfumes. At least my soul breathes a little easier.

Capturing the beauty of the local, undeveloped landscape is an art form in itself. It’s a zen thing, requiring a mind free of distraction or clutter. It is about throwing away any preconceptions about what is pretty and what is not pretty, and instead considering form, and how different forms might talk to each other. This is the passion behind Ikebana, Japanese floral arrangement, which may not include flowers at all but definitely involves balance, contrast, harmony and drama.

One friend sometimes snags a few things out of his backyard to create a surprising dinner-table centerpiece that may be nothing more than a few budding twigs, a large stone and a branch of leaves set in a squat ceramic planter. It’s a far cry from the predictable bunch of corner-store carnations plunked into a vase.

Another friend created the stunning, long-lasting centerpiece shown here from bits collected during a beach and forest walk.
A hand-carved wood bowl is the base. A candle serves as an anchor to the rest of the items: lichen, blooming succulents, moss, pinecones and curls of arbutus bark, found around the property. The row of chartreuse blooms play off the burgundy arbutus, and the silver foliage of the lichen is repeated in the succulents.

The centerpiece evokes the rolling topography and captures both the erupting wildness as well as a balanced sense of order to create a thing of beauty for the table not to be ignored.

Rethinking the livingroom TV

2008-08-26T12:08:00.000-07:00

A 12-inch-screen TV tucked into a livingroom bookcase bucks the wide-screen trend and reduces mindless viewing.

I realize this is a challenging time to re-think the TV, what with many eyeballs still square from watching the Olympics, but this is also a good time to bring up a small point. Not everyone in the household may have shared the same commitment to viewing the relentless CBC coverage.

When you live in a small space with a big TV, this small point can be a major issue both in terms of space and control.

The space issue comes up a lot in my line of work. When most new condos boast at least one livingroom wall full of window, the options for situating the TV are limited. But instead of suggesting a wall-mounted flat-screen TV — which can suck up to three times the energy of the ‘old fashioned’ TVs — I try to introduce a new idea: How about losing the boobtube from the living room altogether?

More often than not I’m met with blinking silence. The mere idea that the main area of the condo should go TV-free is, for many, unthinkable. But consider this: In just three years, TV is going digital, enticing us further to toss the old tube and buy a new flatscreen. But by that time it will be more useful to invest in a good monitor to serve all visual applications, from word-processing to video on demand. Depending on your lifestyle, a larger laptop that moves from kitchen (cooking shows) to bedroom (movies) to den/study (scyping) to dining table (tax time) might be more useful than one fixed screen in the one area where space is needed most for entertaining — or just for a little space and quiet.

I recently banned the behemoth Sony from my living room, and replaced it with our vintage 12-inch JVC and found a whole new chunk of living space in the process. Since I only turn on the tube for news while I’m doing other things, and rather watch DVDs at night in bed, this was an easy adjustment. It also ensures I’ll never get sucked into America’s Got Talent or Celebrity Family Feud, as the livingroom screen’s too tiny to watch anything for more than a few minutes.

It’s inconceivable to TV addicts to rethink the TV, but like any other addiction, breaking the habit starts with small steps. For me it was killing cable. Summer’s the best time to make this lifestyle change. I dare you.

A new appreciation for urban-China interiors

2008-08-18T09:56:00.000-07:00

ABOVE: Not bound by any design conventions, this futuristic Chinese-designed coffee table is a mix of chrome, glass and fun, swiveling to expand to two tiers as needed. Available at Vivo Interiors in Tinseltown.

A cousin in the real estate business recently returned from a junket to Beijing and a bunch of other massive cities too new to remember. He slide-showed his pics of great hulking, overly ornate residential complexes that would fit right in on the Vegas strip. I watched, slack-jawed, as each image faded in and out on his laptop screen. It was like watching the sequel to Manufactured Landscapes.

You have to go, he said, post-show. I don’t think so, I thought. Despite all this Summer Olympic fervor I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near that gargantuan scale. I feel the agoraphobia creeping in just watching the spectacle of millions of people mobilizing — or being mobilized elsewhere – for the good of the Games.

However, I did take a special interest in the photos of the staged interiors of some of those residential complexes. There was none of the clean lines and restful colour schemes that home-sellers and stagers work hard to achieve here. No groupings of river rocks or bamboo or scrubbed wood.

The Chinese living rooms I saw might as well have been designed by Liberace: Great gold-finish chandeliers dripping above tufted brocade sectionals under heavy velvet window swags and on deeply carved jewel-toned area carpets. Every surface was clad in a clash of finishes from speckled granite to patterned mirror to a dizzying assortment of wood grain. The walls were galleries of gilded-framed odd/mod artworks.

I was going to include one of these images in this column but I kept asking myself: To what end? To ridicule a cultural style I don’t share? So I shelved the concept. Shortly after, I found myself working with a developer who has one foot in both cultures. The project was to create an interior that would appeal to high-end home-hunters on all edges of the Pacific Rim.

Since we joined forces, I’ve been forced to stretch my esthetics. I have learned to love chrome and glass and novel design, and have discovered a whole different set of goals. Instead of creating lovely retreat spaces, I’m now excited about setting the scene for celebration and surprise. I think back to those new urban Chinese interiors and I see the unashamedly show-offy whimsy of them, their ability to simultaneously evoke and mock tradition. There was something very familiar about all the fun, the affluence, the fun with affluence. And then it occurred to me: This is their Sixties.

2008-08-09T16:05:00.000-07:00

THE 'RIGHT'COLOUR SCHEME FOR YOUR HOME IS VERY PERSONAL

ABOVE: Taking an hour with a friend to create a vision poster will lead you to discover the ‘right’ colour - and style-w ay for your home.

The question of décor colour sounds like a simple — or simpleton – topic, and if the point is to sell a home, the answer is fairly straight-forward: Go neutral. Create a clean, blank canvas for the next owners. Choose gallery white in a modern interior, or a warm cream or dove grey against white moldings in traditional homes. The end.

Boring, I know, but there’s no point trying to anticipate the personal tastes of every home-hunter. Colour, like humour, is personal. There are no one-word answers when you’re dealing with a personal space.

New palettes are trotted out every season like apparel lines, but adopting the latest styles without any thought is how we arrive at terms like Fashion Victim. Colour’s the same. Grey may be the new colour trend, but if you’re prone to seasonal depression, you may want to think about Tuscany yellows.

Connecting to a positive, visceral response to colour is a tricky business. Parking yourself in front of a wall of paint sample cards at your nearest paint store can lead to option paralysis. The rational side of the brain is more likely to shout over the emotional side you need to access.

This is where the ‘vision poster’ exercise comes in. Grab a random stack of magazines (raid your building’s mixed-paper recycling container), scissors, a gluestick and a poster-sized piece of white paper (or four letter-sized sheets taped together) — and at least one friend to join in.

Put on the coffee and the music, and get ready to cut and paste.

Take 15 minutes to flip through the magazines, cutting anything that appeals to you. Don’t question why it appeals, don’t get hung up on colours or subject matter; just cut and set aside.

When the 15 minutes are up, clear away all the magazines and set yourself another 15 minutes for slapping down all the clipped items on the page, in any manner that pleases you. Resist the temptation to conform to any pre-supposed rules of composition.

Once the 15 minutes are up, tape each person’s poster on a wall. Take turns reflecting aloud about what you see emerging in your piece. Then offer up what you see emerging from the other posters. The results are always illuminating. Colour themes and personal esthetic tastes suddenly appear. Use these results to inform your home paint colour and décor texture choices, and it will feel ‘right.’

2008-08-04T10:19:00.000-07:00

'SHRINE' DISPLAYS CREATE DOMESTIC PEACE

ABOVE: A Major League fanatic’s most precious items are honoured in a living room baseball ‘shrine’ composed of books, trophies, autographed balls — all against a backdrop of a poster on the back wall of a bookshelf.

Many times a couple will call me in to act as a sort of referee, some third party to decide what is fair or foul when it comes to their home.

The sides often line up like this: She wants a refresh, a taste of the trends she sees in magazines. He wants to surround himself with all the stuff that reminds him of the fun times he doesn’t want to forget.

Much as she loves the guy, she can’t have his free-with-Canucks-tickets bobbleheads nodding away at her in the living room, or his signed Tragically Hip poster, or his 400 British music magazines. He can’t see why they can’t make room for his stuff among the passing parade of framed prints, vases, lamps and small bits of furniture that come and go with each season and her various style whims.

I can spot this scenario in the first five minutes of my house call. She will focus my attention on Exhibit A: the offending beer-league hockey trophies. He will counter-point at her latest scattering of accent cushions. She will defend her purchases as useful items for the house. He will look slightly bewildered at all this for-the-house stuff he has learned to ignore.

As the house ref, I call the technicalities. She has to admit that the for-the-house items are in fact hers, which, in fairness, should occupy an equal amount of space as his ‘useless’ mementoes. He has to learn to decide what is a bonafide memento worthy of display and what is mere crap.

Most times it’s the woman who calls me in, so sure she is that I will side with her as ref. He usually greets me with the stiffness of the sullenly suspicious, assuming the chicks will win. However, I’m more likely to suggest something horrifying in her view, like daylight his coffee-table-sized novelty pool table or deep-six her dried floral arrangements.

This doesn’t mean every woman has to surrender the few available surfaces to two-dozen beer steins or action figures. Instead, I suggest designating a ‘shrine’ space for only the most precious items of a particular fetish and arrange the pieces in a limited space — like a bookshelf, or on the shelf under a glass-topped coffee table. Varying the heights and shapes of objects will allow the eye to bounce around the shrine items. A hidden lamp will backlight the collection, for a better view.

2008-07-28T16:04:00.000-07:00

CREATE A CHEAP AND CHEERFUL REMOVABLE BACKSPLASH

ABOVE: It’s a good idea to begin your pebble backsplash with a test piece. This one explores using light and dark pebbles to create a pattern. Carlyn Yandle photo

Last week’s column on tile might have interested readers who have home-improvement funds. Maybe that’s not you, or maybe you’re a renter under strict orders not to alter the place. If so, kindly direct your attention to this week’s summery project: the removable pebble backsplash.

Basically, this is a piece of plywood cut to the specific dimensions of the space between the counter and the bottom of the upper cabinets, covered with a layer of smooth pebbles, and installed using wood screws and wall anchors. (This is a good project for a wall that does not have switchplates or outlets.)

Start by measuring the space, then drawing the dimensions on a piece of cardboard, adjusting to fit. Take it down to Windsor Plywood or your favourite wood supplier and have a staffer trace and cut you your piece out of a minimum half-inch plywood.

Pick up a small tub each of tile mastic and pre-mixed grout (I get mine at Home Depot), scoop up a good bucketful of pebbles at your nearby beach and, back home, rinse the rocks in fresh water to remove the salt. Lay them all out on a towel to dry.

Next, mark some logical spots for screws around the permeter of your board, and drill some pilot holes. Set yourself up at a table with your board, mastic, a thin spatula and a load of pebbles that are no bigger than an inch. Pick up a pebble, butter the flattest side with a generous blob of tile mastic, then affix to one end of the board.

Repeat, fitting each buttered together.

This is a project not done all at once, but in stints, over days, or maybe weeks, like knitting. Let your friends in on the job, or watch a movie while you work.

Once it’s done and dried, spread the grout over sections of the pebble surface with the spatula, using your fingers to ‘point’ the grout into the gaps. Wipe down the excess as you go, using a dampened dishwashing sponge, to reveal the pebbles below.

Once the grout is fully dry you can scour the pebbles with an abrasive like Vim to remove the final film of grout. Mount the board on the wall to mark the anchor spots with a nail, remove, install anchors, then re-mount the board. Add a bead of clear silicon sealer at the base and you’re done.

2008-07-21T11:04:00.000-07:00

'SHOWROOM-ITIS' LEADS TO TOO MUCH TILE IN SMALL SPACE

ABOVE: Too much of a good thing: High-contrast tile grids are better used in small amounts, or against a backdrop of large, plain tiles for some visual relief.

This week I’ve been swimming in tile. Porcelain tile. Glass tile. Tumbled marble tile. From mini-mini bricks — perfect for a really cute barbecue pit for Barbie! — to lead-heavy18-inch squares. I’ve been sourcing tile for kitchen backsplashes, shower enclosures, tub surrounds and laundry rooms. My job is to take it all in, and come up with several tile schemes.

This used to be a simple task. Before this Olympic boom, and the Expo boom before that, before rampant globalization of home-improvement goods, the choice was pretty much limited to middle-of-the-road, middle-sized square tiles, mostly in white, off-white; a hideous range of marble-like patterns in dusty rose and sky blue; and a sad assortment of ‘accent’ tiles in fruity or floral themes. I have yet to meet someone willing to fess up to installing the anemic bouquets in their shower stall and poorly-rendered apples on their kitchen backsplash, so I can only assume that building contractors put them in to attract home-hunting Ladies.

This lady loathes the look, which is why I’ve long recommended those on a tight budget to smash out the four-inch ‘feature’ squares and replace them with a nine-patch of one-inch glass tile in the same hue as the field colour.

The expense of tile and its installation is why choosing tile is a nail-biting business, and why ugly tile can be a deal-breaker for prospective home-hunters, but now there’s a new problem, which one award-winning home-builder client calls ‘Showroom-itis.’ Home-builders and -improvers become inflicted when hit with a constantly growing, changing array of product from Italy to China. They’re dazzled by the vast choice of materials, patterns, colours, shapes and sizes and too often they’re enticed to include a bit of everything. The writing is now on the wall: borders of mottled glass flanking crackle-glaze subway tiles over a run rustic stone squares that meet speckled granite countertops above marble-patterned ceramic tile floors. Yikes.

Here’s an idea: Go simple. It’s tile, not paint, so it’s going to stay there for a while. Stick to neutral colours. Steer clear of busy borders, frames, strips and stripes. Consider doing a feature wall instead. Select the most authentic materials that your budget allows, and avoid ‘faux’ designs that attempt to look like something else.

Finally, take the Coco Chanel accessorizing tip: Pull together all the tile choices you think will enhance one particular space, then remove one type. Less is more.

***
Next week: A step-by-step lesson on making a low-budget pebble mosaic backsplash.

2008-07-07T15:44:00.000-07:00

TAKE YOUR UNTAPPED TALENT OUTSIDE

ABOVE: Pull a Pollock and create your own one-of-a-kind living room art.

With weather this fine, this is no time to be fussing around indoors. This is your big chance to take your inner artist outside to play Pollock.

You know Jackson Pollock, the artist who threw cans of house paint on massive sheets of canvas on his barn floor and became the American poster boy for Abstract Expressionism.

Now that décor has come back around to his mid-century modern era, a splashy
Pollock-esque painting fits right into a living room with low-profile furnishings.

You can do it. Your kid could do it. All you need is some outdoor space. If you don’t have your own, stake out a place in a nearby park. But first, stop by Opus (Granville Island or Cambie and Hastings) or DeSerres (Granville and Broadway or Main near Terminal) to pick up a large stretched primed canvas stretched on a frame. Be bold and go big. Then head over to your neighbourhood paint store and inquire about last year’s series of water-based latex paint samples or tiny cans of mis-tints. Select hues that speak to you, tell them it’s for an art project and you might get it gratis. Buy a plastic drop sheet and head back to your painting place.

Set-up is simple: lay down the ground sheet, drop the canvas frame into the middle and let the spirit take over. I plug into an iPod, but you might get into the wine, as Pollock did, and get ready to get messy.

The next part has no rules, but this is how I pulled the Pollock-inspired piece shown here: I determined which paint I wanted to use in larger quantity for background and what I wanted to use sparingly in the foreground. I poured pools of one paint colour onto the canvas, then stood back to assess. I opened another can and poured other pools so that they overlap. I looked at how the paint fused (or didn’t) and decided if I wanted to keep that up or cover it up. I used a stick to dip into the black and white paint and ‘whipped’ lines over the canvas to break up the blobby look.

Stick to your instincts and take chances. The beauty of this kind of action painting process is in the spontaneity. Once it’s hanging on the wall all those drips, splashes and blobs will start to sing, “You had this in you!”

2008-06-30T09:16:00.000-07:00

COMMON-HALLWAY DILEMMA A COMMON PROBLEM

ABOVE: This common hallway benefits from good directional lighting; chair rails to disguise the drywall seam; paintable textured wallpaper ‘wainscoting’; and busy, high-hiding carpeting that ties in all the colours. Carlyn Yandle photo

My building is in dire need of what is officially known as a common hallway improvement. Unfortunately, as the cost of everything from gas to grapes rises, asking all the individual unit-owners to pony up for the dreaded special assessment to get the job done is a tall order.

Meanwhile, many owners are facing the fact that their long-held plan to flip their unit to leverage in a new building is now fantasy.

This is a typical challenge facing complexes in Vancouver build during the Expo boom-era and before. Anecdotal evidence tells me that those condo association AGMs are increasingly becoming heated affairs, with owners arguing for or against cosmetic upgrades in light of property tax increases and bigger operating budgets to cover deficits for unforeseen higher repair costs.

In short, more and more owners can’t afford to upgrade their common areas and they can’t afford not to.

The factions and voting stalemates can be seen in the hallways of many older buildings in Vancouver. It’s in the dim lighting, the nicked walls, the stained carpeting and the neglected landscaping. True, it just cosmetic, but it’s a thin-edge-of-the-wedge situation. If nothing’s done, before long none of the owners has any pride in the place, and are either preparing to bolt and leave the problem to the next owner, or are resigned to the fact that this shabby building is their home.

Pride of place, it turns out, has more than emotional value.

The sky’s the limit when it comes to improving common areas, but there are many inexpensive ways to perk up the place, by focusing efforts on lighting, paint and carpeting.

Lighting is key. Not everything in the hallways has to be bathed in bright lights, however. Full-spectrum lighting directed onto the floor as well as all doors can de-emphasize featureless walls. BC Hydro offers rebate incentives for buildings making the switch to low-energy bulbs.

Painting is the lowest-cost way to create the highest impact for updating a space. A very subtle, simple sponge-painting effect, using the paint chip directly beside the one chosen for the walls, helps hide wall imperfections.

New hard-wearing no-pile loop carpeting goes a long way toward improving a hallway. A sensible choice has a range of tones from light to dark as well as an obvious pattern to hide the inevitable permanent stains.

Get the owners onside by organizing three options to choose from, from bare-bones to all-the-extras.

2008-06-23T10:23:00.000-07:00

EUREKA MOMENT RESULTS IN MINI RENO

ABOVE: This master bedroom benefits from a new feature wall that conceals a walk-through closet. (submitted photo)

It was in the middle of my sister’s baby shower that I had a design epiphany. The 20 well-wishers would actually all have a place to sit if there was no wall between my living room and the adjacent second bedroom.

This is how I missed the gift-opening portion of the party. While my sister was opening onesies and hand-made blankets, I was caught up in a plan to close off the hallway door to the bedroom, move the closet to that space, install French doors that could swing inwards to create another seating arrangement for a crowd, maybe set up four swivel chairs around a low table in front of the wallbed….

Funny how you can live in a place for a long time before the bleeding obvious re-design idea hits, usually when pressed by necessity (it being the mother of invention).

That need for more space in the small space led to the clever invention seen in this week’s photo, a master bedroom improved by a walk-through closet disguised by a new wall behind the headboard.

This minimal renovation can turn a problem master bedroom into an efficient, uncluttered space. All that’s required is enough room length to accommodate the length of bed plus three feet of ‘walkin’ around space’ and another four for the walk-through wardrobe behind the bed. It’s often possible to gain that length required by removing the existing standard-issue double closet at the foot of the bed. If you’re lucky enough to have the space, this is a smart way to ensure clothes never pile up in drifts around the room again, as the whole changing activity is more likely to happen in that separate space behind the bed.

The beauty of the walk-through wardrobe is in its capacity. Two people’s clothing collections can fit nicely in two tiers of rods and, unlike the usual bi-fold closet, clothes don’t disappear into dark corners. Instead, everything is in clear view, thanks to the open-ended design, which in turn allows for taking instant stock of what you have — and what needs to go.

In this photo, the walk-through closet is flanked by his and hers dressers, each with own mirror and hanging pendant lamp, adding symmetry to the room and further enhancing the bed as focal point. The standalone wall offers just enough space for two small end tables and two space-saving sconce lamps. Genius.

2008-06-16T10:01:00.000-07:00

PLANNING WITH AN OPEN MIND KEY TO CREATIVE DECOR

ABOVE: A French Country-inspired dining nook gets an update, by replacing the frills with clean lines and rich texture.

It’s amazing what eight metres of bargain-priced fabric can do for the human spirit.

I was errand-shopping for something else entirely when I discovered a roll of chocolately printed velvet at my favourite bargain fabric store, Textile Clearance House on Fraser and 38th Avenue. If I see something I love, and it’s $3 a metre, my rule is carpe diem – or, in this case, ‘seize the fabric.’ Serendipitous moments like this are what get the creative juices flowing. My mind rolls over new ideas like my laptop hard drive whirring away in the background. It’s a kind of high, even if it’s all to do with living space.

A yoga-enthusiast friend is big on this kind of open-mindedness to new possibilities. “Way to keep that seventh chakra open,” he once said to me. I rolled my eyes at him, so he explained: “It’s like a satellite on the top of your head, open to receiving new energies.”

This is how my formerly French Country-inspired dining nook got its big update.
After five years, I’d had enough of the eight fussy toile and striped throw cushions propped on yellow seat pads. The comfy-whimsy style was looking frumpy and overdone. I swapped out the cushions for two long foam backs (about $100 at Discount Foam just up the street from Textile Clearance House) and sewed up the casings with zippers, so they can be removed for cleaning. Voila, the new-look nook that will no doubt go through another soft-cover transformation in another decade.

My own configuration is the result of a lot of rumination. I knew I wanted the opportunity to change up the look every few years, and that I wanted at least eight dinner guests to be able to enjoy the view outside. I also needed more storage space.
It would have been a lot easier to pick up a dining room set than have a carpenter build custom benches with under-seat storage for the same price and then find a suitable table, but keeping that invisible satellite open to receiving new ways of thinking about a particular space has its benefits.

It’s all more proof that planning a space well in the first place will ensure it stays useful and looks good for years to come. It starts with identifying what uses the space must achieve, and allowing a little serendipity along the way.

2008-06-09T10:54:00.000-07:00

MODERN CONDO DEN IS OFTEN A CLOSET IN DISGUISE

A retro swivel padded chair is comfortable enough for lounging, but serves work purpose when tucked into this glass-topped sofa table.

If you’ve done any house-hunting in the past few years (and by ‘house-hunting’ I mean ‘small condo-hunting’) you’ve likely seen a ridiculous ‘den.’ Rabbit den, maybe, but a space for a lounging human? Not likely.

Recently I squeezed into a tiny ‘den’ that was obviously a storeroom subdivided to circumvent a hot water tank. A fold-out dining chair faced a sawed-off floating shelf wedged between two corners, presumably for the world’s tiniest laptop. If ever there were a suitable place to bang out a manifesto for blowing up the city, this would be it.

I grew up in a mostly den-less neighbourhood but we got the idea from TV. It was part of the middle-class mindset, a place where parents retreated with brandy snifters or kids played Pong from the sectional. This kind of room is at the opposite end of the den spectrum from that of the modern Vancouver condo.

Today’s den is code for ‘no closet’ or ‘no space for a bed’.’ It is most often the in-suite storage room, that place with no natural light or air circulation. Sometimes it’s the near-useless enclosed narrow balcony favoured by developers as a loophole around the maximum interior space building code. Either way, these are not places where anyone can imagine retiring to watch a movie or whatever else people are supposed to do in dens.

But when you’re more than one person living in a one-bedroom, you need a retreat — an away place to study or talk on the phone or work on a project.

Carving out that extra space starts with tackling the storage problem. Dedicate one wall with floor-to-ceiling shelves for things you need to get to at least once a week.
Consider a combination of hidden and exposed storage, like matching baskets or boxes for all the daily little necessities. All other items that are needed less frequently (out-of-season clothing, photo albums, seasonal sports equipment etc.) could be relocated to a nearby self-storage unit, starting at about $65 per month.

A console or sofa table can serve as a slim desk for a laptop, and a comfortable padded work chair or two can allow a little lounging. Choose task lighting, like a pair of table lamps with low-wattage bulbs, over ambient, overhead light to de-emphasize the room’s dimensions. Consider swapping a standard door for wood-slat panel curtains to retain some privacy and air flow.

2008-06-02T09:09:00.000-07:00

COOL EVENINGS IDEAL FOR OUTDOOR BAR, BUFFET

ABOVE: A small West End balcony goes glam cocktail party with the help of a cluster of crystal decanters, silver ice bucket and an array of stemware on a glass tabletop.

We don’t get the warm summer nights they brag about in Calgary, Winnipeg, Toronto or Montreal. Those of us who grew up in this temperate rainforest climate know this, so it’s not helpful to keep pointing it out.

The rapid migration here from the rest of Canada may explain why suddenly we’re all bent on buying a ‘better’ summer climate by racing out to get this year’s version of that environmental nightmare, the propane space heater. I like the warm and toasty restaurant patio as much as the next guy but I wouldn’t buy one of the gargantuan heaters myself, simply because they’re a colossal waste of energy. They’re also ugly. And they’re prone to breaking down, so I tend to view them as propane bombs.

It comes down to this: Either we can whine about what we don’t have, construct some fantasy of what we demand (hello, leaky California-style condos) or we can work with what we’ve got.

What we’ve got are cool, dry summer nights — ideal conditions for a drinks bar or cold appetizer buffet for the small-space dweller who loves to entertain but can’t accommodate more than six dinner guests most of the year.

There’s no danger the hooch will boil in their decanters and the glassware stays cool. It’s chill enough to keep the chardonnay from swimming in an ice-bucket full of bath water, and there’s no opening and closing an ugly plastic cooler just to get a beer. Here, the bottles can be nestled into a wide galvanized bucket full of ice, a centerpiece.

Anyone who’s ever picnicked in the Okanagan in the height of the summer would appreciate a spread of hors d’oeuvres that doesn’t immediately ossify or break into a greasy sweat before your first bite. Best of all, the whole arrangement keeps people circulating as they dip out for a fresh drink or a nibble, and makes the most out of a small indoor space.

Some ideas for the balcony bar:

• Two stacked picnic benches covered with a large white tablecloth can serve as a space-saving buffet table.

• Pump up the glam factor by decanting a variety of drink choices in glass or crystal bottles (with labels).

• Use wire-mesh domes to keep bugs at bay and arrange nibblies on platters that are about the same diameter.

• Drape a throw over the back of each chair — for those who love the West Coast chill.

2008-05-23T09:29:00.000-07:00

SILVER AND WHITE ADDS SPARKLE TO SPACES

ABOVE: This small condo is a shining result of a strict palette of silver and white, at work with light wood, glass and a repeated circle motif.

Now that the last square inch of my condo has been painted in keeping with a golden caramel palette of antique oak, creamy coloured furniture and pine-laminate floors, I am officially sick of brown.

It all feels stodgy and lifeless. What used to emit a unifying warmth now seems like a relentless amount of mud. I know I will be attacking the walls again soon, washing every vertical surface in gallery white so the art and accessories can do all the talking.

I’m lured by the latest nostalgic glamour gracing the pages of House and Garden and Elle Décor, but I do draw the line at all the grey. Despite what the designers may extol, grey is not an appropriate colour for the Wet Coast, unless you want to risk falling into a clinical depression by February.

Now silver I could live with. I can’t get enough of the shine in mirrored, metal, paint and fabric. I love the combination of silver and white. It’s so neutral it works with dark wood or light. It punches up the personality of accent colours like lime green, tangerine, cherry blossom pink or chalky pale teals. Silver is also a high-styling backdrop to both modern pieces and antique furnishings and accessories.

It takes a bit of discipline to enjoy the full effects of a lighter-than-air space delivered by silver and white, and if you know you’re not a minimalist or you live with kids, don’t bother. This crisp look is strictly for those who need a break from all the visual clutter in the city competing for your attention. Depending on your personality, the strict design limitations are either obsessive or challenging. I equate this kind of approach to container gardening: What to put in (and leave out) takes a lot of forethought and maintenance, but the result is a high concentration of style.

Tips:

• Keep all necessary clutter of life under cover — in boxes or behind doors. Even highly-used items like remote controls and keys can be dropped into flip-top boxes.

• For storage out in the open, think in multiples for items like stainless steel hinged lunch-type boxes, or white translucent magazine files.

• Unearth any white, glass and silver items to display in groupings, such as mismatched white vases on a silver tray, black and white photos in silver frames or white pillar candles on flipped glass goblets.

2008-05-19T13:29:00.000-07:00

FUN FURNISHINGS FOUND AT MONTHLY ARTISAN MARKET

ABOVE: Mabel Taunu, here with her hand-painted reclaimed glassware, says Portobello West helps fill the void she felt here for the market-stall culture she loved back in London.

My favourite part of traveling abroad is wandering around the street markets. This is where I score weird and wonderful mementoes and souvenirs beyond those made in China (unless I’m in China, of course). Last December it was the massive Marche aux Puce de Vanves in Paris, where I wormed my way through the aisles of vintage goodies from political poster art to servingware. But whether the stall market is in Paris or Kyoto, the real attraction is catching some of the local vibe.

The stall-marketplace is basically a foreign concept to Vancouverites — and most North Americans. Instead we have the mall. Portobello West bucks that trend. The expansive local artisans’ market sets up on the last Sunday of every month at the Rocky Mountaineer train station (just west of Home Depot on Terminal).

It’s the brainchild of Carly Smith, who missed London’s stall shopping experience after she moved here several years ago. The name refers to the Portobello district that has been thriving for the last century, except Smith apparently envisioned a monthly market that was less ‘flea’ and more ‘artisan.’ Not surprisingly, the concept is a hit with Vancouver’s under-appreciated community of artists whose options for setting up stalls on a regular basis has been limited to cramped quarters like Granville Island Public Market. Judging by the throngs of humanity at last month’s Portobello market, we’re fully embracing the stall-market culture.

Although the market leans heavily toward body fashions, I was wall-eyed by table after table of unique, very-West Coast home fashion items, from cushions to floor mats to vases and dishes, all created by locals.

Portobello West takes place in an airy, all-season venue but it’s not easy to get to without a vehicle. The VCC-Clark SkyTrain station is close as the crow flies, but there’s a long, dull walk around the rail yards to get there. Alternatively, shoppers can take transit to Main and Terminal and hoof it to the market — no fun in the rain — or wait for one of the free shuttle buses that stop at the SkyTrain station every 20 minutes around the opening hours of noon and 6 p.m.

Hopefully the city’s planning department sees the value of supporting a bustling home-grown artisan community and will provide some long-term solutions for ensuring the stall-market continues to thrive and is accessible to everyone.
The next market is this Sunday, May 25. A toonie gets you in. More info at http://vancouver.portobellowest.com

2008-05-12T09:23:00.000-07:00

MIRROR WALL CAN BE STUNNING IN THE RIGHT SPACE

ABOVE: A wall accessing the kitchen is transformed into a gorgeous, light-filled view after it was mirrored.

I sensed a new note of glamour in a friend’s West End penthouse apartment while at her dinner party a couple of weeks ago. I scanned her lovely traditional-but-never-stuffy living room but nothing looked altered. However, the dining area was looking especially sparkling.

It turned out she had recently had three pre-measured mirrors cemented onto the wall opposite her English Bay view, to stunning effect. The mirror visually eliminated the wall and enhanced her antiques.

I’ve long wanted to mirror my living room wall opposite the only, large window but like many condos, that wall is the short one in a rectangular space, the most sensible spot for the entertainment unit. While dedicating that short wall to floor-to-ceiling storage and floating the furniture in a grouping makes the best use of a small living room and squares up a narrow space, mirroring that wall could do just the opposite. Any large entertainment/shelving unit would have to be placed along a long wall, exaggerating that shoebox effect.

During this especially dark winter I’ve tried to conjure up a way to bounce the weak natural daylight off the opposite wall while still retaining space for the TV, stereo, books, magazines and favourite objects.

One option is to get severely disciplined about what’s allowed to live in the living room so the whole floor-to-ceiling shelving idea can be scrapped for a low credenza/buffet that could sit flush against a mirrored wall. I imagine a sleek vintage teak piece, with a pair of lamps book-ending a tray with pillar candles (my fireplace) and neat stacks of magazines. This vision would require replacing all the traditional stereo paraphernalia — stacked components, CDs — for an iPod and docking station.

The second option I’ve come up with is buying an entertainment unit composed of stacking square modules with flush doors that could be mirrored to create a large reflective grid. I’m still not sure whether that would create the light and visual space I crave or whether it would all look more suited for a bedroom.

Also, both options don’t allow for hanging artwork nor do they solve the problem of having one’s couch-potato reflection staring back while watching TV. It’s just a matter of time before I lose the TV altogether — I’m more likely to watch the computer these days — but that reflection would still be there, a constant, subtle taunt on bad hair days and worse sweatpant evenings.

2008-05-05T13:58:00.000-07:00

GROWING FOOD IN CONTAINERS IS A FUN CHALLENGE

ABOVE: A three-tiered planter dripping in strawberries (or hanging cherry tomatoes) makes a charming focal point in a small outdoor space. (photo from autumnent.homestead.com)

As tempted as I am to make my perennial pitch on behalf of the so-sensible worm composter, I’m going to resist this year (you can check out the archives at right) and instead move onto why you need one now more than ever.

If you’re reading this, you’ve probably also read that there’s a worldwide shortage of food which has us all paying more for food these days. You’re likely also aware of the good sense of buying produce that is locally and organically grown. If that’s not enough reason to get you growing your own too, I’m beat.

I potted up my first homegrown harvest — tomatoes, zucchini, green onions, peas, basil, oregano — in my mid-twenties, when I finally emerged from subterranean living and into a co-op townhouse with a tiny, sunny balcony. I was clueless, but I followed my gardener mom’s odd instructions: Go down to the beach and bag up some seaweed to mix with the soil before you plant the tomatoes; plant garlic around your roses; leave the roots of the pea plants in the soil; pinch out leaves to yield more fruit. It was a steep learning curve, but I was soon talking mulch, manure tea, black gold and white fly. By late summer the garden was growing faster than the Man of the House and I could eat it. I learned herbs could be frozen into ice cubes for winter, and that zucchinis made great doorstops.

Growing your own food in the balcony garden is extremely rewarding. Vertical plantings, or groupings in fountain-like tiered planters and hanging baskets make the most of limited space.

But container gardening requires commitment. Be ready for daily watering as the season heats up — if you can use collected rainwater, as promoted in this space two weeks ago, all the better — and be willing to learn about how to create the best organic soil conditions.

Which brings me back to the worms. Except for my occasional seaweed scavenging, the compost produced by my red wigglers is all I need to keep my container plants thriving. City residents can call City Farmer at 604-736-2250 to take a Wormshop and buy a bin.

I just top up the pots every spring, then let those worms do their thing the rest of the year, munching my produce scraps into black gold. They munch, I munch, they munch again. The circle of life. Hakuna matata.

2008-04-28T08:37:00.000-07:00

LET YOUR INNER ARTIST OUT TO DECORATE

ABOVE: A collection of wooden wine boxes make a useful, eclectic (and free) display shelf. Carlyn Yandle photo

Some of my favourite homes in Vancouver don’t have any of the luxury décor items featured in high-end boutiques and high-tech showrooms — no wall-mounted flat-screen TVs, no Italian leather sectionals, no Swarovski crystal chandeliers. But what they do display is creative energy and a sense of celebration that result in truly inspired interiors.

Not surprisingly, these are the homes of local working (and/or struggling) artists. Also not surprisingly, their living spaces reflect a minimum of funds but a wealth of ingenuity. The rooms are typically an eclectic layering of textiles, re-imagined furnishings, quirky collections of humble or found objects, intriguing books and traded artworks, as well as the residents’ own works in progress. Usually the rooms are multipurpose: personal workplace by day, welcoming social space by night. Unlike predictable, professionally designed interiors, these places are as fascinating as a curio museum or a Victorian library; they beckon to be explored, and only on close inspection do they reveal themselves. The dentist’s ancient wall-mounted work lamp that was refashioned into a swing-arm TV holder comes to mind, or the tall ladder that serves as display for old woodcarving tools.

It’s all more proof that money can’t buy good taste, and that truly beautiful interiors are often the reflection of an artist’s impulse to innovate, take a risk, think unconventionally and keep an open mind to others’ ideas.
It’s never too late to let our inner artist out to play decorator. Start by making a silent vow not to undermine your ideas with the ‘shoulds’, then allow yourself to experiment with different ways to display those cherished items.
In this photo, the structure is 15 linear feet (the equivalent of an Ikea Billy bookcase) of wood wine boxes gathered over the years from trips to Okanagan wineries, and wall-mounted in a Gulf Island cabin. Photos in pine frames repeat the pattern, and recall past summer trips. The boxes display useful cabin items like novels, flashlights and matches as well as mementoes from travels and beachcombing treasures.

Assembling this shelving group is simply a matter of starting with the largest box and adding other boxes as you see fit. This organic, additive approach to design is only bound by the imagination, but remember to assess as you go, install wall anchors where there’s no stud and reinforce the boxes with wood screws if necessary.

Cost of materials: zero. Cost of creative input: priceless.

2008-04-21T13:24:00.000-07:00

SAVING THE RAIN FOR A SUNNY DAY

TOP: Vancouver residents can purchase this rain barrel for $75 at the city’s transfer station, 377 W. North Kent Ave. (Info: 604-873-7350). ABOVE: The rustic TerraCycle oak rain barrel with spigot is at Home Depot.

You know you’re a little desperate for dry, warm weather when your flipflops are sinking into the soggy grass. But forward thinking has always been the key to innovation. That’s why it’s the right time to think about saving some of that rain for the days when your plants will need watering.

Last year at this time I finally made good on some prolonged procrastination about installing a rain barrel to capture the collected rain from my gutter now for watering later.

The concept is so simple, I can’t figure out why we don’t all have rain barrel collectors already as part of sustainable building design. What’s so mechanically advanced about interrupting the downspout with a large container? People do it all over the world, but here in Raincouver, recovering what falls from the sky for irrigating plants is a foreign concept for most urban dwellers.

The City of Vancouver offers a cash incentive of 50 per cent off the cost of the recycled plastic barrels, which has enticed more than 2000 locals to get one for $75, but condo dwellers face roadblocks like applying for strata approval, and, often, finding a vehicle big enough to haul the half-barrel home from South Van.

Unless we all get a tax break or, more likely, a smaller bill for water useage (coming soon to a meter near you) most people won’t be bothered harvesting rain.

I would like to see the city demand all new housing developments include a rainwater collection/irrigation system for any outdoor area adjacent to all buildings — now. That little building-code update would ensure that all balconies are constructed to bear the weight of a full container, and that residents would simply be able to turn on the spigot at the base of the barrel. It’s cheaper than feeding piping from the inside out, and it might also lead to some more attractive barrel designs than the old forest-green plastic.

I vote for a condo/townhouse version that is little less conspicuous, something slim and rectangular that sits flush against a wall and can be disguised with a ledge on top for entertaining or holding plants, maybe even incorporating under-counter storage for the hose or watering can.

In the meantime, another option for collecting rainwater is a more traditional oak wine barrel collector for $150, available at Home Depot. It’s more expensive, but at least it can be delivered (for a cost).

2008-04-16T22:56:00.000-07:00

THERE'S A BIG DIFFERENCE BETWEEN COMFY AND FRUMPY

ABOVE: Is this country décor pretty, or pretty ugly? Your age may be a factor in your vote.

I was searching for coinage while waiting at the bus stop the other day, rummaging around my big ol’ million-pocket ‘organizer’ purse jammed with rolled-up cloth shopping bag and rain hat, doggy treats, Chapstick, empty Ziplocs and an ancient fuel bar I will only eat if desperate.

I’m not sure exactly when I morphed into my grandmother, but there was a time when I sported a sexy little clutch containing little more than lip gloss, a credit card and apartment keys. I might as well face the fact that I’m never going back to the lean purse, just like I’ll never sport a mega-shoulder-padded ’80s blazer or Metallica perm (again).

Funny how at some point in our maturity we start to reject trends — especially the retro trends we’ve already lived through once — in our pursuit of comfort and familiarity.

However, there’s a fine line between comfy and frumpy, a point I was reminded of as I took a long look at my oh-so-practical middle-age-lady purse.

Frumpy accessories do not make the woman, just like frumpy households are not necessarily a reflection of those who live within. More likely everybody just started to overlook the dried-floral swag in the dining room, the dusty-rose wallpaper border (or any wallpaper border) in the bathroom. Sometimes it takes a set of fresh eyes to know where to begin stripping off the frump layer and pump up the basics that remain.

I’m often called in to homes that are suffering from frumpiness – not exactly a crime, but a hard sell if that home is up for sale and the realtor’s coming by to take photos next week.

Emptying out the place and bringing in a whole new decor is fine if money’s no object but the quick-fix alternative is removing the stuffy, tired layer: balloon valances, floral matchy-matchy furniture, old pastel stripes and floral mix-and-match cushions that were hot in 1987 and so not today.

Some tips for de-frumping:

• Invest in sold-toned pre-washed custom slip-covers for sofas and armchairs to extend the use of otherwise comfortable seating.

• Switch out ruffled, patterned or pastel cushions with sharp-edged solids in a bold new colour, like chartreuse, tangerine or copper.
• Replace fussy window coverings with reed or wood slatted blinds and/or tailored panels.

• Throw something surprising in the mix like a shag carpet, large glass top coffee table or modern colour blocks of artwork.

2008-04-07T08:29:00.000-07:00

MODULAR FURNITURE SATISFIES URGE TO CHANGE UP DECOR

ABOVE: A modular series of four seats turns this tiny basement suite room into a cozy conversation area.

My favourite new piece of furniture is actually four upholstered seating units that together make up a sectional. Or a loveseat and two slipper chairs. Or two chaise longues. Or one luxuriously long sofa.

This is the beauty of modular furniture: Every configuration works. Whether it’s seating or shelving, a modular system is made up of easily-movable units that are cheap to ship but can create furnishings of substantial height and breadth. Each modular unit in a series is small enough to make it through skinny hallways and up long staircases and can be packed into the back of a hatchback — all practical features that have turned manufacturers like Ikea into a global success story.

I depend on modular because I have to change things up, in my own small space as well as the different interiors I work in. At home, I might be hit with the sudden urge to re-jig the living room for a fresh outlook. For work purposes, I may need to be able to physically move a sectional into a loft, then use it next month as a pair of chaise longues in a basement suite that doesn’t have the pass-by space to handle regular two-armed loveseats.

That’s the practical side of modular. However, in the pursuit of practicality it’s important to resist acquiring the furniture equivalent of the old seven-piece mix-and-match wardrobe collection that was a mainstay of the Sears catalogue in the ’70s. Sure, that mint-green stretch pantsuit worked with the mint-green and pink striped blouse/skirt set and pink and green vest, dress and wrap but every one of the resulting 21 possible ensembles was hideous. (As much as I am drawn to the idea of limiting my wardrobe to seven multifunctional pieces, hopefully someone will have a gentle talk with me if I end up going all matchy matchy simply because it’s practical.)

But I digress. My last piece of practical philosophy: Don’t make a fashion statement when you buy into a modular system. Resist fad styles and colours; give in to neutral tones and clean lines. Make modular seating the blank canvas on which to layer accent cushions, and multifunctional shelving units the simple frames for featuring more interesting, changeable objects and artworks. Years down the road you won’t still be hanging on to the equivalent of a tacky old pantsuit; that modular furniture will withstand any new décor fashion with flexibility and grace.

2008-03-31T14:31:00.000-07:00

WALL-MOUNTED SURFACES YIELD MORE LIVING SPACE

TOP: A demi-lune sconce serves as a night table in a tiny ‘master’ bedroom; ABOVE: An antique table drop leaf is transformed into an eating bar.

I love the challenge of creating space to thrive — not just to survive — in under 500 square feet. Not coincidentally, that’s what more and more of us are facing these days if we expect to enjoy all the amenities Vancouver has to offer without the commute.

Once we’ve wrestled with the problem of where to store everything, the number one order of business is finding enough surfaces to make the place truly functional.

We need both active and passive surfaces for prepping meals, eating, watching TV, reading or just hanging. That means places for things like an alarm clock, books and magazines, lamps, coffee cups, dinner plates, a computer, and favourite objects we just must have nearby. As much as I love turning to tall shelving for small spaces, I can’t imagine pulling up a dinner chair to a bookshelf for dinner and am not a fan of that boxed-in feeling of bookcases flanking the bed.

This is where wall-mounted surfaces come in. I’m always on the lookout for an extra large demi-lune shelf sconce to press into service as a wall-mounted side table. If I come across duplicates with a reasonable amount of surface area I can’t resist nabbing two for use as night tables for those impossibly tiny “master” bedrooms. If I can squeeze out 15 inches of space between the headboard and each side wall, I can usually shoehorn a couple of sconces into the wall. That’s all the space required for a pair of pretty lamps, alarm clock, book and glass of water. The open floor space under the sconces makes up for the tight squeeze.

If you’re a fan of clean, modern lines, you might find the sconce solution a little on the ornate side, but expect to part with a little more cash if you choose a simple wall-mounted side table. Some good bets for sourcing include EQ3 on Granville or Inform, in Gastown.

Recently I met the challenge of carving out an eating surface in a kitchen that had no spot for even a simple table and chairs, if one expected to still gain entrance into the washroom. As shown here, I mounted a drop leaf from an antique table onto two decorative brackets from Wonderbucks and anchored them into the wall at counter height. A couple of matching rush-seat stools tuck under the 14-inch-deep leaf for easy walking access when dinner’s done.

2008-03-24T17:04:00.000-07:00

INSTANT SLEEP SOLUTION FOR LAST-MINUTE VISITORS

ABOVE: A bamboo space divider stands in as a modern headboard when placed behind an inflatable queen bed/frame combo, available at stores like Canadian Tire or Linens ’n Things. Carlyn Yandle photo

A few weeks ago, I rang out the virtues of the space-saving wall bed. But what if some of your family is descending on the city — and you — this weekend?

Before you panic over visions of couch-surfers dancing in your head, there is another way to put up (with) your people, thanks to the vastly improved BYObed.

Far from the glorified air mattress of yore — I remember my brother almost passing out trying to blow up a queen (that sounds a bit nasty) on a camping trip — the deluxe inflatable bed includes a built-in inflater/deflater and the whole thing slips into a casing fixed into a lightweight frame. Rollers on the storage bag reduce the hazard of lower-back injury, making the whole set-up simple. Just wheel it into the room, extend the frame, unzip the casing, lay the mattress on top, plug the cord into the nearest outlet to inflate, then zip the mattress in to create one stable, snug unit for an outlay for up to $350.

You may be so impressed with the result, you’ll want to go a little further in making the folks feel at home. This is where the room divider — one of my favourite pieces of multifunctional furnishings — can be pressed into service. It can be moved around to change the dimensions of an open-plan living space, create privacy, fill in a dark corner or stand in for art — or, in this case, a headboard.

A sturdy bi-fold or roll-up divider can also serve as a base for one or two clamp lamps, but make sure the divider is tacked to the wall with something suitable like hooks and picture-hanging wire before you set the bed against it, or risk braining your sleeping guests.

You can also create the effect of a headboard by tacking up a large textile like a quilt, or hanging a drapery panel or matchstick blind on a rod installed high above the bed. A pair of inexpensive fold-down wood side tables can serve as night stands now, patio furnishings later.

Whatever the plan, make sure to include some sort of reading lighting and a surface for reading materials, so everyone can enjoy a little down time.

For extra points, include two pillows and a small stack of clean towels per sleeper, a water pitcher and glasses, and some magazines they’d likely enjoy.

2008-03-17T08:10:00.000-07:00

PRISTINE APPLIANCES NOT BASED IN REALITY

ABOVE: There’s no shortage of products and tips for removing scratches from brushed steel, depending on your risk tolerance.

A shameful, small-minded side of me emerged suddenly last week. My stainless steel fridge got scratched, and I had a small freak-out.

I don’t count myself among the kind of people who would become emotionally entangled with their appliances, even if they are European imports (the appliances, not the people). I’m more one of those who would buy the fridge with the side dent, for the discount.

I’m also not a fan of stainless steel in the kitchen, especially in homes with kiddies and their fridge-worthy artworks. However, white was not an option when I bought the sleek counter-deep, extra tall Liebherr fridge. My kitchen reno depended on this pricey space-saver, so I settled on steel.

When the installers left, I slowly peeled the blue translucent cling film off the towering, gleaming surface. It was magnificent. It’s also near silent, except for a faint sigh at regular intervals, or a gentle beep indicating a power outage or an open door.

Then it happened, like that first ding on a new car that renders it no longer new. I spent more time than I care to admit researching ways to eliminate surface scratches from brushed stainless steel. I googled. I called in professional housecleaners. I even cornered well-known furniture designer Arnt Arntzen, who creates spectacular furnishings out of reclaimed steel pieces like aircraft wings, for advice on restoring Liebherr glory.

The prevailing suggestion was to start with a metal polish, working in the direction of the brushed metal. If that doesn’t work, move onto the finest steel wool. If that fails, there’s the riskier suggestion of using coarser steel wool, like an SOS pad, then working back to the fine steel wool, then the metal polish. Follow up with an all-purpose cleaning spray to remove any residue, then finish with an oily stainless steel cleaner to pump up the shine.

I plunged into the various and many methods, stopping short of the one suggestion to use a Scotchbrite pad.
I’m not sure if it was exhaustion, back pain, chemical inhalation or the general shame I felt for devoting so much time and effort to the cause, but at some point I decided the scratches were no longer prominent enough for me to continue obsessing over a fridge door.

I am no longer basking in the reflected glory of a pristine appliance, although my nephew’s latest cobra drawing now has a place of honour.

2008-03-11T18:55:00.000-07:00

THE UPSIDE TO NO ROOM FOR BOOKCASES

ABOVE: A series of wall-mounted Ikea shelves mounted along the space above this closet yields the same number of books as one tall ‘Billy’ bookcase.

Last week in this space I took on the problem of the ‘spare’ room that inevitably has no room to spare when it’s obliged to take on all comers — overnight guests, collections, sports gear, work clothes, toys, among others.

I suggested installing a wall bed as a starting point for transforming the household dumping ground into a truly multi-functional room. It’s often a better choice than a convertible sofa or futon for small condos, where there’s likely less floor space than wall space, but a wall bed takes up valuable bookcase space. And we all need our books (and magazines, photos and mementoes…).

To me, any featured home in a décor magazine that doesn’t feature at least a few shelves’ worth of reading material isn’t a real home. So when there’s simply nowhere to place a tall bookshelf, it’s time to look up — waaaay up, to the space between the tops of windows or doors and the ceiling.

A continuous line of wall-mounted shelves running across the extent of one wall can hold a surprising number of books. A full perimeter of wall-mounted shelving could carry the equivalent of four bookcases. But beyond the practical, high perimeter shelving creates the effect of different ceiling heights, so essential in ingenious Frank Lloyd Wright-style interior architecture. Suddenly a room that is little more than a box has the look of dropped soffits, which help create a cozy, intimate retreat room, while retaining the full ceiling height in the centre to ensure against that closed-in feeling.

Wall-mounted shelves are simply planks of wood, wood composite, metal or tempered glass, with hidden or exposed brackets. Ikea is the obvious source for a wide variety of both shelving and brackets. I prefer using real wood; it’s sturdy, a more fitting material for books and can be stained or painted to suit other wood or walls.
Installing the shelving is simply a matter of measuring the wall length and purchasing enough shelving to fit, trimming a board where necessary so it runs flush to the end walls. It’s best to affix the brackets into the wall studs; otherwise use strong wall anchors — books weigh a lot. Make sure to install the shelving at the exact same level.

For a more built-in, seamless look, use longer lengths of finished wood planks, available at a wood supplier, or hire a handyperson to do it all to ensure a professional result.

2008-03-03T15:03:00.000-08:00

SQUEEZE OUT MORE USE FROM SMALL 'SPARE' ROOM

ABOVE: Shaker-style details create an armoire-style façade on this wall bed in a 9x12 all-purpose room.

Those of us who are lucky enough to have a second bedroom or den would never give it up, but that same room is likely to be the household dumping ground — and grounds for arguments.

That’s what happens when you try to make one room the overflow closet, guest quarters, retreat, study, play area for kiddies, and the place where collections go to live (or die).

It takes a lot of forethought to make a tiny “spare” room or den fit various demands. But once all functions are met, it can be the most utilized room in the home. That’s why I’m devoting two columns to creating a multifunctional place in a minimum amount of space.

This week, I’m rallying in support of the wall bed. If you’ve got a six-by-eight space, you’ve got room to accommodate two people in a double wall bed, even if you’re renting. Unlike the inflatable mattress/fold-up frame option, the wall bed offers all the comfort of a regular bed, and can be made up complete with pillows in advance, requiring only one pull on the front panel to turn the space into a bedroom. (It’s also an immediate solution for getting a good night’s sleep when your partner has the flu.)

For the very small space, a wall bed beats a sofa-bed, which takes up more permanent floor space, often eliminating the possibility of some desk/work space. A better use of that precious square footage may be a combination of wall bed, reclining armchair and secretariat desk: basically a low bookshelf with flip-down work surface. If you’re really squeezed for space, you could ditch the desk idea and choose a wall bed with a pull-down table top for use when the bed is stowed.

Both vertical- and horizontal-open wall beds blend well into a bank of bookshelves, and provide a much-needed expanse of space in an otherwise cluttered room. Contrary to rumour, a wall bed can be dismantled and relocated, making the estimated $2,000 investment worthwhile over the long term. A wide range of styles and laminate finishes are available, but trendy options can look tired down the road.

Check out style options and prices at Instant Bedrooms (125-1080 Mainland) or trek out to Richmond to Ace Bedrooms, 106-11500 Bridgeport Rd., near Ikea, or B.C. Murphy Wall-Bed (get directions and Flash-y graphics at murphybedsvancouver.com)
***
Next week: A case for books (where there’s no space).

2008-02-25T10:12:00.001-08:00

GETTING THE INFO IS HALF THE BATTLE FOR HOME PROJECTS

ABOVE: Handy types like Lori Mitchell promised to make the DIY jobs easier, at last weekend's BC Home and Garden Show at BC Place Stadium.

This year’s BC Home and Garden Show carried the tongue-in-cheek theme, “How’s that little project coming along?”

Cheeky, because many of us are contending with a range of household hazards and hassles on the To Do list, like warped kitchen drawers that demand a good arm-yarding to open and a body-check to close. Or a hood fan that sounds like aircraft taking off but fails to encourage even a wisp of smoke to drift its way. How many of us warn guests to ‘just jiggle the handle’ as they head to the head? Or have learned to step around that plank of buckled laminate flooring, or put up with the annoying squeeking of a subfloor that threatens to leave the joists altogether?

My little project that has not been coming along since the last millennium is a bathroom overhaul. I’m not quite in the state of this year’s Home and Garden Show poster model: dude in underwear trying to get to his medicine cabinet while standing in a pile of rubble and snaking pipes. But I am reminded of my need for a new bathroom every time I’m in the bath, at eye level to the cracks of black mould in the marble-patterned tile behind the corroded circa-1978 faucet. Even Calgon can’t take me away from the nagging suspicion that there’s a thriving ecosystem behind those tiles.

Since I can’t escape this view, I spend what should be a relaxing half-hour working out a reno sequence: smash out tile; replace walls with water-proof version; buy faucets, select tile, find installer….wait, I might as well lose this too-small rubber-band beige tub, so logically the matching water-hogging toilet and chipped sink should go, and since I have to replace it all anyway, maybe I could reconfigure it all so there’s room for a standalone shower…with glass enclosure. And I’d really love to get a skylight put in here….

By the time the water’s cooled, any enthusiasm I’ve had goes down the drain.

Complex projects require information from a range of experts, which is where events like home shows come in. I’m already building quite a list of confounding questions for the next one, like: Can a toilet even be moved from its sewer stack? How much would it cost to have radiant heating under the shower floor? What’s the latest in water-saving toilets and shower fixtures?

Or I could just bathe by candlelight and stay in the dark.

2008-02-18T09:53:00.000-08:00

BRING SOME SHINE TO THAT DISMAL MID-WINTER BALCONY VIEW

ABOVE: Serving as a weather-proof focal point is an oversized Christmas ornament, threaded through the drainage hole of a silver-painted terracotta plant pot, secured on the bottom with the help of a paper clip and tinfoil tape.

It’s hard to imagine, but these bleak mid-winter days are the source of hopes and dreams among local gardeners. This is when the seed catalogues arrive in the mail and articles ranking the best-bet plants sprout up in home décor magazines and newspapers. Our public spaces may be more muddy than green, but the minds of gardeners are filled with colourful plans.

Then there are the rest of us. With no gardening hopes heating our hearts, we’re more likely to glance out at our depressing, leafless balconies and shut the blinds.

From November to March, there’s no long-term way to perk up that patio with seasonal greenery in these watery parts. Ornamental kale turns to mush. Sporadic frosts flatten “cold weather” primulas and pansies. And just in case you’re tempted to jump-start spring by filling those bare pots with already-blooming forced bulbs, you might want to heed the words of a sign I saw recently at a garden store: “We feel it is WAY too early to start planting outdoors.”

In the meantime, there are a few tricks to perking up that dead-winter view — and your point of view. It begins with a little elbow grease. (I can hear the groans already.)

On the next available sunny day, commit an hour or so to removing the layer of brackish slime that builds up over the winter on all outdoor surfaces. Turn on the music and get ready to get down — on your hands and knees.

Throw on some outdoor clothing and rubber gloves and move any furniture to one corner of the space. Dunk a bristle brush into a bucket of soapy, bleachy warm water, or better: water sprinkled with TSP, available at your local hardware store. (I haven’t tried diluted white vinegar, but that promises to be an environmentally-responsible alternative.) Rinse with a hose or bucket of clear water if your balcony has an enclosed downspout, otherwise mop up the excess using a sponge-mop and rinse bucket of fresh water.

Next, move any weather-proof furniture into a pleasing arrangement. I depend on the painted cast-aluminum café set to defy anything Mother Nature flings our way. Finally, establish a weather-proof focal point on a table, or create a grouping to foil a barren corner. Light-reflective, water-proof Elements to consider are a mirrored Victorian gazing ball, metal plant pots or trays filled with polished pebbles, concrete columns or small metal sculptural items.

2008-02-11T07:40:00.000-08:00

DO YOU FEEL THE LOVE?

ABOVE: Love at first sight: A stylish grocery pullcart made of recycled inner tubes spotted on a recent trip to Spain could add heart to the neighbourhood shopping stroll.

Since the printed version of this week’s column lands on That Special Day that makes floral, candy and greeting-card companies happy, I’m devoting the subject to love — of the apartment life.

I’m in love with my 1,000 square feet now, but it’s only recently that I gave my heart over completely. Like an ‘attached’ person who still browses online dating websites, I’ve been a chronic MLS-listings junkie, always wondering if the home of my dreams will appear. Something with a backyard, or a rec room, or even just 200 more square feet, or in a soundproof concrete building.

When the Man of the House and I (and cat, and dog) moved into our place as first-time homeowners, I assumed we would stick it out for a couple of years until we jumped to a better place. It’s what Vancouverites do. That was over a decade ago.

Over the next 10 years, we got into the groove of what we discovered was not just a few blocks of apartments and stores, but a community. We fell into a routine of Saturday morning dog-walks to Granville Island, Sunday runs on the seawall, a frequent walking shopping circuit that might include drop-bys at the fish store, the hardware store, the video store, the magazine store. The Man became the authority on the best price for bananas; I started thinking that a particularly stylish grocery pullcart could turn lugging groceries into a more leisurely social experience of my ’hood and all its increasingly familiar faces — human and canine and feline.

And like it is with matters of the heart, one day it dawned on me: I’m in love with our apartment lifestyle. Ours is not exactly a show home, and the common areas are a bit shabby, but then I’m far from perfect myself and have my shabby moments. There’s no concierge in a shiny lobby at my place, but then, I don’t worry about wearing PJ bottoms when I take the dog out for a late-night constitutional.

Suddenly I stopped looking.

Still, it’s bit awkward when those who haven’t fallen in big city/small home love ask: “Are you planning to move to a house?” It’s a question loaded with judgment, like the ‘Are you planning to get married/have a baby’ question. There’s a moral implication that one must constantly desire more, not be happy with less.

But there’s no arguing with feelings, especially when that feeling is true love.

2008-02-04T14:55:00.000-08:00

DESIGN STUDENTS TACKLE SMALL-SPACE CHALLENGE IN WOOD SHOW

ABOVE: This table-and-seating combo is just one of several bold new designs on small-space living, at the Wood Co-op Gallery at Granville Island. Carlyn Yandle photo

In Emily Carr School of Art & Design’s sculpture shop last week, I passed by an Industrial Design student struggling with the zipper of his ‘soft project’ assignment — a laptop case — on the school’s sewing machine.

It looked like the machine was winning. I knew this student had done time in active military service and had probably mastered his share of sophisticated machinery, but the Singer in front of him was a whole new adventure.

That’s the beauty of going back to school and behind the scenes. You get to see all the pain and suffering, group collaboration and ‘a-ha!’ moments that go into the development of a range of projects. And you never look at well-designed products the same way again.

So when I popped into the Wood Co-op Gallery’s “2 + 1 = furniture for small spaces” show on Granville Island last week, I was looking beyond the elegant simplicity of the finished pieces created by Emily Carr students; I was seeing the blood, sweat and tears — and triumphs — back at the school’s ID wood shop.

The challenge at the Wood Co-op show, continuing until Feb. 18, is the same one faced by a booming number of urban dwellers: maximizing the very-small living space. The designers of this exhibit have taken that challenge to a new level by using only environmentally responsible/renewable materials, dyes and adhesives.

For example, the “More or Less” low table/seating unit (Jaki Bernat, Livia Chou, Mircea Juverdeanu, Tina Lu) tackles the problem of seating six in a tiny space. The result: a gorgeous layered-wood table housing six surprisingly comfy padded and upholstered seating cubes. (Soft-furnishing elements were made by Van Gogh Designs.)

Meanwhile, the “Side By Side” multifunctional furniture system (Caine Heintzman, Cindy Liu, Chie Matsuno) reinterprets the pullout bed, relying on sleek multipurpose pads that link up to form reclining seats or sleeping surface as required.

All the small-space prototypes on display at the Co-op share a distinctly Japanese influence. Simplicity of line and natural materials create the style, and each design connects the body closer to the ground, which traditionally would be smooth tatami matting as opposed to our harder (and colder) surfaces. Considering the shrinking average square-footage we’re getting in this city, and these emerging designers’ pieces, we may soon be thinking well outside this continent when it comes to furniture and the space around it — and more on the Rim.

2008-01-28T14:49:00.000-08:00

COLD SNAP LEADS TO WARM THOUGHTS ON HEATING

ABOVE: Mantra is the newest complex to market the clean and environmentally responsible geothermal heating and cooling.

I come from the kind of family where if you complained you were cold you were told you weren’t wearing enough clothes, but I’m a little sick of the unfashionable bulk I have to wear around my place during this cold snap.

The root of the problem is my wildly inefficient electric baseboard heaters. Situated just below the windows, they battle the cold that defies double-glazing, while the rest of the space remains chilly. I’ve resorted to placing fans in front of the heaters to disperse some of the warmth, and even caved into some energy-sucking portable ceramic fan heaters. Frankly I’m surprised BC Hydro authorities haven’t descended on the place in search of an illegal grow-op for all the energy I’m using.

The rest of you may be dreaming of a white Christmas, but I’m dreaming of radiant heat flooring. It’s simple, says my man at NuHeat, especially since the electrical is already in place. It’s just a matter of laying on some concrete thinset, connecting a radiant heat grid to the electrical contacts from the ripped-out space heaters, installing a floor – tile or wood – and enjoying efficient, clean, dispersed heat from the toes up. Yes, I could let go of the daily glamour of thick socks and leopard-print Dearfoams.

There’s another tantalizingly cozy option for those in the housing market: new condos that boast geothermal heating (and cooling). I admit I’m a rank amateur when it comes to fully understanding the technology, but basically a narrow hole is drilled down into the largest passive solar connector – the earth itself – where some pipes and some sort of liquid transfers cold air down and warm air up in the cold months, working in reverse in the warm months. Not at all the steaming sulphurous hotsprings and elaborate ductwork I had envisioned impossible in the city. In fact, the new 138-unit Pomaria tower between the Granville and Burrard bridges is geothermally heated and cooled, as is the Mantra complex currently underway at West Fourth and Pine. All the advantages — cool in summer, warm in winter, geothermically-heated domestic water supply — has me seeing dollar signs with wings radiating out of my circa 1975 heaters.

It’s worth a trip to Gastown to Inform Interiors’ new premises, not only to view an example of exemplary building and furniture design, but 30,000 square feet of clean geothermal comfort (with a ridiculously low heating bill to match).

2008-01-21T07:55:00.000-08:00

MAKE ROOM FOR BABY IN A BIG-CITY SMALL SPACE

ABOVE: Space savers for a new addition include an Amby baby bed (TOP), hanging mesh cubbies, floating shelves and an all-white décor.

If you spot any typos in this column, don’t blame my editor; my hands are shaking with excitement as I type, knowing my sister is in the first stage of labour.

Within hours of this writing, there will be a new mom, new dad and new little person in the one-bedroom West End rental apartment that used to be hers alone. She thought about moving into more square footage once they were three, but she likes the place too much to let it go just yet. There’s her sunny little balcony where she grows tomatoes in summer, the five-minute walk to the seawall and Aquatic Centre, the array of ethnic eateries just around the corner. While other expectant mothers focus on creating a magazine-worthy nursery, my sister’s dreaming of springtime walks around Stanley Park and rendezvous with friends and babies at one of the coffeehouses down the block. The downtown lifestyle has been great motivation to tackle the challenge of creating space for a baby in a one-bedroom apartment.

Any veteran mother will tell you that newborns don’t take up much space; it’s the paraphernalia that hogs room, from elaborate strollers to life-size stuffed animals. Newborns don’t need full-size cribs, let alone a matchy-matchy upscale nursery bedroom suite. Like all other aspects of small-space living, some self-discipline is required.

So instead of the crib, my sister has opted for a hammock-like Amby Baby Motion Bed (ambybaby.com), which tucks nicely into the corner beside the big bed. She cleared out the existing white Ikea dresser for baby clothes and diapers, and fitted it with a change-table topper. To increase storage space without losing square-footage, the dad-to-be surrounded the dresser with a hanging white mesh organizer and two white ‘Lak’ floating shelves, both from Ikea, in a staggered design to leave room above the change table for the task at hand and a mobile for baby, while allowing easy access to other baby essentials on the second shelf. A few matching square white baskets the same depth as the shelves keep jars and bottles tidy, and the whole white-on-white colour scheme further reduces visual clutter.

Meanwhile, the clothes removed from the dresser were subjected to a general weeding, then placed in two reorganized closets. All out-of-season clothes and gear were boxed up and stored in a $50/month rental locker — a growing necessity as city dwellers opt for quality of lifestyle over quantity of living space.

2008-01-14T19:47:00.000-08:00

MY WISH THIS YEAR: MORE FOCUS ON HUMANE URBAN DESIGN

ABOVE: A narrow alley in Rome features gems like this intimate drinks lounge, lit mostly from illuminated seating.

The tiny Smart Cars scooting around town these days remind me of the identical-looking car I used to see in Kyoto called ‘The Cute.’ They were marketed specifically to young single women like a fashion accessory, so naturally they were available in a wide choice of pastel colours and girly detailing. Small was chic.

That was 20 years ago.

It’s astonishing how glacially slow simply-great designs take hold here, home of the Hummer mentality where bigger equals better. Why does the North American fridge have to be six inches deeper than the kitchen counters? Why do we still have energy- and space-hogging hot-water tanks instead of compact demand heaters, like in much of Asia?

This is the danger of traveling beyond this continent. Once you get past all the tourist landmarks and exotic flavours of a city, you start to notice what’s missing from our own urban environment, like deep overhangs above storefronts to shelter walkers from the elements, as seen in New Zealand. You start to rely on those overhangs when you’re away, and soon you start wondering why we don’t insist on them on all retail frontage.

You spend your time wandering narrow pedestrian-only city streets, and then you think about the scary state of our urban back alleys. True, city council is looking at losing dumpsters in the downtown core, but we’re a long way off from zoning those alleys for small-scale, ground-floor retail and restaurants, as seen in, say, London or Rome (see photo).

We do lead when it comes to public smoking laws, but that’s a public health issue, not a design innovation. That’s Vancouver for you: Improving our right to access the fresh outdoors trumps the need for safer streets, affordable retail, and pedestrian mobility. We’ll take our individual four-wheel-drive Whistler lifestyle over efficient public transit that would entice us out of our cars.

My New Year’s wish is that we all let up on the westward-ho pioneer mentality and stop backing the relentless push for more freeway for more private vehicles. Instead, we need to consider improving the current urban condition through humane design. Calling Vancouver a ‘world class city’ doesn’t make it so; we need safe shelter for all, mixed-income housing for the working poor, sanctuary for those with mental and/or addiction illnesses, and design ideas borrowed from truly great cities that encourage their urban residents to mix and mingle.

2007-12-10T18:56:00.000-08:00

ILLUMINATING SEASONAL DECOR IDEA SAVES ON YEAR-ROUND STORAGE

ABOVE: Mirrored cardstock from Loomis and recycled embossing foil from The Source on Main Street create seasonal décorations you won’t have to store later.

The relentless Christmas music that began pumping through every store speaker system five minutes after Halloween was a good reminder for me to plan my seasonal escape. My favourite electrician calls it Missmas.

I confess I’ve developed an intolerance to the hyper-marketing Crassmas season that starts early with rising expectations of perfect joy and stuff-stuff-stuff, and ends in disappointment and guilt when we don’t meet those expectations.

But before I make a break for it, I have a few presents to pass on in the form of alternatives to the seasonal tsunami of cheap and environmentally-suspect décor items.

This week it’s an idea I got after seeing Vancouver artist Gathie Falk’s hauntingly beautiful Dreaming of Flying show at the Equinox Gallery last month. A group of double-sided mirrors hung from the ceiling, each reflecting the others and casting hits of light on the surrounding walls.

I hit the Loomis art store around the corner on Broadway and picked up a poster-sized sheet of mirrored card ($3.95) and headed back to the studio (aka the dining table). I worked out a dead-easy method for the mirrors and before long my apartment was encircled in circles, catching and bouncing light like crystals.

I love the tradition of celebrating the dark months with light, and if I can do it with friends, well, that’s my idea of comfort and joy. This is where my Annual Craft Night for the Craftily Impaired comes in. I call up a half-dozen fun individuals (the stressed-out workaholics being no fun at all) and have them over for an evening of crafty merry-making.

The step-by-step instructions:

• Use a mug or lid to trace a circle out of a small square piece of mirrored card.
• Coat the entire back with a glue stick.
• Cut out the circle with small sharp scissors.
• Stick a larger piece of card to the circle, wrong sides together.
• Using the circle side as a guide, cut out the larger piece so you have a two-sided circle.
• Thread some thick silver or monofilament thread through the card near the edge with a needle.
• Tie the ends of the thread together to make a loop whatever size you require.
• Hang the circles in a grouping from a dining light fixture or the ceiling (with appropriate head clearance) to serve as a centerpiece or mobile, or in a line along the top of a window frame to catch the midwinter light.

2007-11-26T21:47:00.000-08:00

NOTHING FRIVOLOUS ABOUT A QUALITY BACKSPLASH

ABOVE: Travertine marble mini bricks add depth and texture to a kitchen backsplash.

About 18 months ago, I took a deep breath and gutted my apartment kitchen – or, more accurately, signed a contract and then a lot of cheques.

The kitchen is the costliest room to renovate, followed closely by the bathroom. But it’s a deal-maker or -breaker if you’re planning to sell your home. Mine was definitely in the ‘breaker’ category. The stove was a puny 24-inch-wide unit with a warped oven door. The sink was seven useless inches to the left of the stove, and the other side was a corner – one of two corners in the U-shaped room that were inaccessible. When we first moved in, it was swathed in burgundy and navy wallpaper that looked like an EKG pattern, however the problem was beyond cosmetic.

In just six weeks from the moment the demo crew arrived, swinging crowbars, I could open the dishwasher without closing the trash cupboard first, and went from one to three prep areas of well-lit counterspace.
But I put off my final plan for the kitchen — a tiled backsplash — for more than a year. There were too many style options to consider, and the whole idea seemed a bit frivolous, considering the cost. Late this summer I finally tackled my procrastination and picked out some variegated off-white tumbled travertine marble ‘bricklets’ imported from Italy (from Ames Tile in Burnaby), still fighting the thought that I’m indulging in some addiction to luxury.

Now I get it.

The backsplash not only functions as a fire-proof, water-proof surface vital in a kitchen, but it visually anchors and connects the space between the upper and lower cabinets, unlike plain drywall. The natural element of stone or ceramic enhances both ambient and directional lighting and acts as a foil against all the other manufactured materials in the average kitchen: appliances, fixtures, composite countertops or cabinetry. Stone, tempered glass or ceramic tile and brick add value to the property.

Tips:

• To keep the backsplash from looking dated avoid obvious patterns and busy colours.

• To stretch a tight budget, consider interspersing simple solid-colour ceramic tiles with a few scattered marble tiles or a row of mini glass tiles in a coordinating colour.

• You can always paint an existing ceramic tile backsplash or hire a painter to do it for you. A good sanding first, followed by a coat of the appropriate primer will ensure it’s scrubbable.

2007-11-19T15:13:00.000-08:00

HOME CAN BE A PERSONAL-ART GALLERY

ABOVE: A trio of postcard replicas of 1920s advertising posters from Hungary serves as unique wall décor.

I recently met with a client who was stumped at what to put on her bare walls. Several months after moving into her new home, she didn’t want to make a mistake. Paralysis had set in.

The first thing I do in this very common situation is ask to take a peek at the pile of framed items already on hand. Almost everyone has a space-sucking stash of mass-produced, tired images picked up or inherited in a moment of weakness.

After we haul out the clutter of frames, I ask for the client’s opinion of each one, and we start building three piles: ‘keep’, ‘give away’ and ‘I don’t know.’

Funny how it takes a conversation with another person to decide that most of those generic images bought for the sole purpose of adding a little life to a space have no life of their own. In fact, sometimes a bare wall is better than some meaningless florals or those bland landscapes better known as ‘bank art.’ At least an empty wall can serve as visual breathing room, enhancing other elements in the space like the architecture or the view outdoors.
Once we finish weeding through the “art” we go through that other stash: mementoes, childhood photos, souvenirs and other cherished bits and pieces that deserve a little daylighting. Wall-worthy items can be anything from vintage postcards to Grandma’s gawdy clip-on earrings, to old maps or kids’ paintings. Framed and hung on a wall, a collection of humble items can start conversations and turn even a tiny apartment into a personal, unique gallery.

A good way to decide how to present those important pieces is by touring an actual gallery where it’s clear that it’s all about lighting, framing and the space itself.

All the works are hung so the centre is at general eye level, and set in frames that enhance the subject — nothing wimpy or overwhelming. Smaller framed pieces look best set on a smaller wall (see photo) or in a smaller space, like a bathroom or narrow hall. Three-dimensional items — from an antique christening dress to a seashell collection — can be mounted and set into a recessed frame. Any full-service or do-it-yourself frame shop can provide ideas for how to best present those treasures.

Finally, family photos can be raised to personal-art stature by scanning them in black and white and hanging them in simple black or silver frames.

2007-11-12T08:47:00.000-08:00

INJECT A LITTLE SOUL INTO HOME DECOR

ABOVE: Nelson textile artist Marilyn Lee’s felted cushions are more than home décor; they’ve got a back story.

When you live in a small space, you learn to edit out the useless stuff as often as you take out the garbage. It’s a constant battle to keep the clutter from closing in on you, while still enjoying those little bits that bring soul into your space, and it can mean the difference between feeling overwhelmed and feeling at peace.

During our battles against stuff we have no room to store, we inevitably come up with a recurring thought: What possessed me to buy this? We usually ask ourselves that question when we’re holding up some knick-knack completely bereft of soul — another tealight holder, a fake plant, plastic Buddha statuette, mini ‘zen’ fountain, set of napkin rings or coasters — often grabbed in a moment of weakness, another example of retail therapy that provides a 15-minute high, and all made in China under dubious labour and environmental conditions.

Six months later, that ‘really cute’ cheese plate set, chocolate fountain or plastic mini chandelier holds no value at all. In fact, this growing clutter of cheap chatchkas simply serves as a reminder of how much money we’ve thrown away and how much room we don’t have. So out they go.

Whether we’re conscious of it or not, our forced decision-making process of what stays and what goes is based on the back story of each object, as opposed to the object itself. If it was a gift, it’s likely to stay. If its purchase was connected to an event, like a backpacking trip through Europe, or our first real job, it stays. If it’s useful — not just theoretically, but used regularly — it stays. If we know and appreciate the labour and skill that went into its making, or if it’s one of a kind, we hold on to it.

That’s why events like the annual Circle craft fair thrive despite the general glut of mass-produced home décor items out there. We get the back story of the high-quality items displayed by 260 Canadian artisans. Those pieces have soul.

It’s why I love my over-the-top purple flocked molded purse I splurged on at the Circle Craft fair a couple of years back. Because the Quebec artist explained how he made it, and because it reminds me of a rare day together with a close friend, it lives on my bedroom closet door knob — while other purses have gone to goodwill.

(Missed the fair? Check out a sample of those works at the Circle Craft store in the Net Loft building, Granville Island.)

2007-11-05T09:33:00.000-08:00

HANGING GARDENS CREEPING INTO CITY PLANS

ABOVE: An otherwise unsightly commercial lane reveals some surprising beauty, thanks to a hanging garden — and residents who encouraged it.

When we’re not socked in by hammering rain, this is a breathtaking time of year in Vancouver. The yellows and reds of deciduous trees bump up the contrast to the sea and mountains. Fall-bloomers compel us to whip out the cameras.

But what stops me in my tracks is the surprise of gold and vermillion Virginia Creeper vines that almost consume the south side of the “cop shop” at Cordova and Main Streets and some massive concrete bridge supports at the entrance to Granville Island. Local celebrity gardener/author Thomas Hobbs might call it “shocking beauty.” I view these unlikely garden showcases as a sort of triumph of Mother Nature over urbanization. Even without any square footage to speak of, there’s always the possibility of greening up the place.

Hanging gardens not only create visual relief over the tedium of chain-link fences and cinderblock walls; they help offset the effect of CO2 emissions from vehicles and industry with little space requirements. Suddenly urban planners and architects around the world are working hanging gardens into their plans.

Vancouver is an ideal location for vertical plantings. We are situated in the middle of a temperate rainforest, after all, which guarantees enough moisture and balmy climate to keep those clinging varieties lush. With almost no effort — or, better yet, some neglect — ugly concrete facades can evolve into nurturing ecosystems. What starts off as a sheen of green mildew evolves into a mass of a wide variety of mosses, which filter water and provide bedding for other plants, which nourish larger vines, which attract insects which attract birds (etc.).

Unfortunately, if left unchecked, those mosses and creepers can actually take down the concrete edifices they grow on, first through moisture, then resilient root systems that can work into cracks. Encouraging hanging gardens in an urban setting requires a bit of forethought, but true gardeners love a challenge.

I’m not one of those by any stretch, but I love the thought of reducing my ecological footprint without compromising my scant outdoor square-footage that is my deck. I may not have room for trees, but wisteria, honeysuckle and ivy twist around trellises (kept in check so they don’t creep onto the common walls) while mosses carpet the bases of plantings and the sides of pots, encouraged by a wash of yogurt every once in a while.

Unlike in most of Canada, now is the perfect time to get growing.

2007-10-29T08:29:00.000-07:00

REAL FULFILLMENT COMES FROM 'ENOUGH’

ABOVE: BEFORE AND AFTER: A re-worked and simplified dining room invites more fulfilling activities and experiences that money can’t buy.

A couple of weeks ago, someone handed me a well-thumbed copy of “Your Money or Your Life” (by Joe Dominguez and Vicki Robin), after she found out we had both jumped off our career/commute track and into the thrilling/scary world of art school and self-employment.

Since then, I’ve been absorbed by this little book that debunks the generally-held belief that we can buy fulfillment. It examines the personal daily sacrifices we make to keep consuming more: long commutes, maxed-out credit cards, disconnection from family and friends, stress-related illness.

The authors challenge us to reject the idea that we’re consumers first, and consider a radical notion: “enough.” Maybe living in 750 square feet is enough. Maybe cable-free TV is enough. Maybe taking public transit or a camping holiday is enough.

You know you’ve missed out on the ‘enough’ stage when you’re consuming beyond survival and comfort. The more luxuries we buy, the less fulfillment those purchases give us. When we can’t see that we have enough and can’t break the buying habit, we’ve developed a dependency, just like binge-eating or drinking. AA members will tell you that you have to hit rock bottom before you make real change.

It could be something as serious as a break-up, or it could be a lurking anxiety over the lack of physical space or mounting debt to see that our stuff, and our auto-pilot drive for more stuff, is starting to make things worse, not better. The non-essentials — the to-do lists, the broken things that haunt us, the knick-knack gifts we feel we should keep, the too many obligations — start to clutter up the corners, then intrude into our consciousness.

I like being around people when they’ve decided they have had enough. I love to hear them declare how calm and clear they feel as they detach themselves from useless things and move on from their old need to achieve another level of wealth. Enough really is enough. When the clutter’s cleared off the table and our schedules, suddenly there’s room for having dinners with loved ones. Nobody cares if it’s just spaghetti and salad; the experience is enough to bring on real fulfillment.

I like the ‘death bed’ scenario: on your deathbed, will you regret you never owned a Porsche or had a Whistler condo? Or will you regret you didn’t spend more time with your nephew, or connected more with the world around you?

2007-10-22T15:37:00.001-07:00

VAMPIRE POWER LIVES AND THRIVES IN OUR HOMES

ABOVE: Now that’s scary: Could somebody please design a power cord that can be hidden away, with a foot ‘puck’ switch to cut off standby power?

Since everyone’s getting ghoulish as Halloween nears, this is a bloody good time to talk about ‘vampire power.’

That’s what our household appliances and electrical devices are up to when they’re on standby mode or are sitting in their adaptors fully charged. One look around my apartment and suddenly I saw those power-suckers lurking everywhere: the TV, the stove, the microwave oven, DVD player, stereo, camera… basically anything that is not actively operating but is running an LED clock or is activated a remote control or the press of a button.

If that’s not scary enough, some of those idle mod-cons are drawing up to 75 per cent of the power they draw on when officially ‘on.’ In short, ‘off’ hardly ever is, but those items are still sucking ‘standby’ power, and our hydro bills are haunting us as we acquire more computers, iPods, cellphones and wireless router systems. One more frightening factoid: ‘standby’, ‘phantom’ or vampire power-suckers make up 10 per cent of household power consumption in the U.S., so Canadian consumption must be right up there needlessly wasting energy too.

The battle against these energy vampires is starting to heat up, with government demands that manufacturers build devices that consume a minimum wattage in standby mode or kill the feature altogether. Until our legislative bodies slay that monster issue, many people will continue sinking their electrical cords into power bars and killing the one on switch before they leave for the day or retire for the evening. That doesn’t help when it comes to, say, my built-in microwave/vent hood appliance, or those with TVs that will lose all their programmed channels. Still, I’m doing what I can around the apartment, even though it means putting up with a snarl of plugs in power cords scattered around the place. So much for the wireless home.

A year or so back I clipped out some DIY plans for building an attractive, backless fliptop box to hide all the various plugs and adaptors, leaving the trail of wires flowing out behind the hidden surge-protector monster power cord. Not bad, but what I’d really like is a ‘puck’ style switch on the floor, connected by some clear wiring to a tidy power box with several outlets that could be concealed in a cupboard or closet. That way, I could step on as I switch off the lamps at bedtime — and sleep a little sounder.

***

UPDATE: After this column ran in Metro Vancouver last week, I received the following great suggestion from a reader (verbatim):

I just read your column "Invasion of the power-suckers" and I may have a
solution to your power bar situation.

Some time ago I bought a remote on and off device at Home Depot for
around $20.00. It is a 3 pronged plug on one end and the other is a
single 3 prong outlet. You plug it into the wall and anything you want
to remotely turn off you just plug into it. The remote comes with it's
own battery and is a little bit smaller than a car alarm..

On my back patio I have some white mini lights and a small pump for a
fountain plugged into a power bar which is plugged into the device. One
button later all is working. The remote is good for up to 50 to 100
feet. Going through walls is no problem. As long as you don't overload
the power bar you should be able to run just about anything through it
like a lamp, tv, stereo, Christmas lights, etc. Great for putting all
the plugs and the power bar behind something like a sofa and with a
click all your Christmas tree lights magically light up.

This link will take you to one that will handle both incandescent or
fluorescent loads and is CSA certified.

http://www.homedepot.ca/webapp/wcs/stores/servlet/CatalogSearchResultView?D=936441&Ntt=936441&catalogId=10051&langId=-15&storeId=10051&Dx=mode+matchallpartial&Ntx=mode+matchall&recN=0&N=0&Ntk=P_PartNumber

2007-10-15T14:52:00.000-07:00

TIPS TO HARNESS MUCH-NEEDED LIGHT

ABOVE: A panel of sheering suspended by a white Umbra tensile rod softens a hard-edged view while allowing for a maximum amount of light.

If you’re not a morning person (guilty!), you have to draw on every fibre of your being to haul yourself out of bed when it’s clearly still night-time out there.

Part of my fall defence strategy is hogging as much natural daylight as I can before the vitamin-D-robbing dark months sock us in until March.

This is the time of year when I hang mirrors on the opposite walls to windows. Currently there’s one in my dining room and three in the living room. Okay, I admit the décor appears to border on the narcissistic but believe me, I’m not looking at myself in those mirrors; I’m doubling the views and harnassing natural light instead of completely relying on BC Hydro. Putting up with any judgments about my vanity is more than worth the brightness I gain from those light-bouncing mirrors. Besides, they’re not the banal bathroom sheet mirrors; they’re each a unique piece, with interesting framing architecture and of varied sizes, mostly found in antique and second-hand stores. (One of my favourite sources is Habitat for Humanity’s ReStore, on 69th and Manitoba near the Superstore on Marine Drive.)

The other key part of this strategy is keeping the windows free of any light-robbing treatments, while still maintaining privacy. This is where my love of sheers comes in. They’re quite out of style at the moment, but sometimes you have to go with your gut. Unlike hard-to-dust blinds, a thin bank of sheers soften hard-edged views — especially of security bars fit into the window frame — while barely affecting light potential. If a bank of sheers isn’t enough to achieve privacy, they can be paired up with drapery panels on a double rod.

This is another example of how European and Japanese traditions are light years ahead when it comes to interior design. Light-emitting lace and sheer coverings are signature features of old European apartment buildings, while in Japan, simple and elegant shoji paper blinds and dividers achieve the same results: a softening ambience, with a minimum amount of light degradation.

But the most compelling reason to return to sheers is their ability to block dust, especially during these construction-boom times. The fine weave acts as an air filter, evident when it comes time to wash them. (Watch those suds turn black as they’re plunged into the water.) After a quick spinning, they can be hung back on the windows to dry.

2007-10-08T13:24:00.000-07:00

HOME SHOWS KEEP THOSE IDEAS FLOWING

ABOVE: Sustainable design solutions make up the Green Room exhibit, hosted by BC Hydro and Friends of the Earth. Submitted photo by Shaun Mitchell

Last week a client and I were discussing one great thing about getting older: you start to know your own mind. You dress according to what makes you feel good about yourself, not what’s on the mannequins. You gravitate toward people and communities that feel right, instead of keeping up with the Joneses in their endless march toward amassing wealth. You start to really trust your little voice that says when it’s time to put your foot down, or let it all flow.

But please: slap me if I stop washing my hair or start collecting a lot of cats, I tell friends. It’s essential to welcome new possibilities, ideas and forms, or, as one friend says, keep that seventh chakra — the one on the top of the head — open like a satellite dish.

For example, I pretty much like my home as is, with its eclectic décor of bits and pieces made by friends and family or found during trips to other parts of the world, or the nearest beach. But I still love leafing through decorating magazines and taking in events like the Vancouver Home & Interior Design Show this weekend at BC Place.

I jump at any chance to take an up-close look at cutting-edge architecture and design, so, outside of galleries, a show of this scale is an important venue. A couple of years ago, the Sunset Breezehouse changed my view of ‘pre-fab’. This year, the large-scale display is PLAY:HOUSE, a collection of kid-sized dwellings created by some of this city’s gifted architects and designers and artists, as a fundraiser for Canuck Place Children’s Hospice. (For more examples of local design talent check out the “Movers & Shapers.”)

I’m also a sucker for any before-and-after home-styling scenarios, so Colin McAllister and Justin Ryan (of HGTV’s “Colin & Justin’s Home Heist”) is a good bet.

Add to all that the acres of aisles of the usual hawkers of gadgets and gizmos, some doggy fashion shows and celebrity cooking seminars, hot tubs and Sub-zero fridges, and you’ve got yourself one mega show.

Take it all in today (Thursday), 4 - 10 p.m., Friday, noon to 10 p.m., Saturday 10 a.m. - 10 p.m. or Sunday to 10 a.m. - 6 p.m. Tix: $14 for adults, $13 online at www.vancouverhomeshow.com. If you know your own mind, you don’t have to be advised to wear comfortable shoes.

2007-10-02T16:32:00.000-07:00

FEAST ON THIS: CREATIVE TABLE DECOR

ABOVE: A remnant of heavy suiting or tartan can be transformed into table linen without sewing.

It may not be on your own personal radar but it’s only a week before Thanksgiving. Granted, the holiday is a bigger deal in the ’States, but the fact that ours lands at the beginning of the cooler months makes it a welcome-back-to-the-hearth kind of occasion.

My favourite Thanksgiving dinners have been the last-minute, potluck occasions featuring some surprise (and sometimes homesick) guests who might have otherwise missed out on the annual tradition.

I really don’t care about the menu — I’ve got some serious foodie friends who take care of that — but I do enjoy tarting up the table for the occasion, or, more recently, tartan-ing.

I’ve done it all: the over-the-top table tableaux, complete with tacky-fun glue-gunned centerpieces of novelty squashes, to luscious layers of silver and white from the damask linen up to the glittering chandelier. These days, I’m gravitating toward a tailored look, using suiting as inspiration and foregoing the flouncy tablecloths for square-edged runners or placements framed with black mitred edgings.

It all sounds excessive, but in fact, serving up a special-occasion table takes more creativity than cash. Sometimes the best place to find a good chunk of heavy suiting or tartan is at a second-hand store or in the remnants bin at a good fabric store. Making one or two runners doesn’t require any sewing if the fabric fibres are large enough and the weave isn’t too tight.

Once you’ve found your fabric, figure out the length of your table, then add between four and eight inches to each end so your runner will hang nicely. If you’re planning to lay it lengthwise, cut the width to about a third of the table’s width to keep the runner in proportion with the table. Another option is to cut two runners about 20 inches wide for arranging across the table’s width, so they can serve as placemats for four. If you have a round table, set the runners crosswise.

Next, pull the top thread along the length of your runner until it comes off, then repeat until you have an inch of frayed edge on each long side. You can lock in the edge by tying the crossing threads together at each corner.
Once the runners are on the table, start the layering: placemats, napkins, tealights, or mini bouquets of fall berries wrapped in string to mark each place setting.

Bon appetit!

2007-09-24T14:40:00.000-07:00

TACKLING CLUTTER MAKES ROOM FOR THE CALM

ABOVE: Thirty minutes’ work turns a chaotic towel closet into a visually restful and easily accessed storage area.

Some days, everything seems to have somehow fallen into place. But most days I’m weed-whacking through the usual snarl of half-done commitments, unfinished projects, and jammed-up junk drawers, all set to a background noise of bridge traffic, sirens and the vibrating bass from the next apartment.

I can’t do much about the construction cranes scraping the skies and all the road-ragers out there, but that may be why I focus on interior space. I can feel myself getting more grounded as I develop more strategies to calm the chaos, and I’m motivated to continue when others tell me they feel the same way.

Or maybe it’s the instant gratification that comes from such simple, mind-freeing tasks, like tackling an overflowing closet. Some find the same satisfaction ironing or polishing a favourite piece of wood furniture, washing their car, or making soup.

I may not own a duster and haven’t fired up the circa 1968 vacuum cleaner for a year, but I can relate: when your hands are busy, your mind is free to wander, contemplate, reflect.

I do my best thinking when I’m slaying a storage disaster. I pull everything out, assess each item (‘throw away’, ‘give away’ or ‘keep’), then set up a system for returning the space to order. One hour’s work can conquer years’ worth of internal nagging to deal with a particular rat’s nest.

Case in point: the towel closet shown here. Tucked under the eaves of an old-timer house, this space was a traffic centre accessed by six busy family members. The louvered doors had long broken from their tracks, but the view of dozens of mismatched towels and clutter of toiletries was too hideous to leave exposed, so they all put up with the daily door-wrestling. I suggested removing the doors altogether, then went to work piling all the much-used towels in a series of easily accessible white soft-wall hampers with lids, leaving just the neutral-coloured towels in view. Whatever was too bulky to fit in the hampers was stored in a couple of large Ikea fabric beach bags at bottom. Some light-coloured toiletries baskets and hats were left of the top shelf where their neutral colours would not add visual clutter.

This former closet now no longer needs doors to hide the mess, but also visually opens up the hallway. Thirty minutes of attention creates a little a little more quiet order — at least indoors.

2007-09-17T09:56:00.000-07:00

MINIMIZE THE HELL OF MOVING HOUSE

ABOVE: A peek into the self-storage of one homeowner on the move reveals an orderly stack of labeled file boxes that can be sorted through at leisure.

When it comes to stress, moving home is right up there with divorce and the death of a loved one.
Even a move on up — to a bigger condo, a more happening community, a neighbourhood within walking distance to work — is a fresh sort of hell.

It might start off peacefully in the weeks before the big day, when you devote a couple of weekend hours sipping coffee and flipping through old magazines. Then suddenly time goes through a sort of cosmic compactor and you’re flinging armloads of clothing into garbage bags, one of which will inevitably end up in the dumpster but you’re too exhausted to care.

Complicating matters is Vancouver’s skyrocketing real estate market that can leave home-hunters in scary scenarios, like making a split-second decision that results in a lifetime of debt, or worrying that they’ll be real-estate drop-outs after they’ve sold their home but before they’ve found a new one.

The trick to a (relatively) painless move is starting well before you have to — even before you’ve found a realtor. Start by loading up on some packs of collapsed file boxes with lids from Staples or Office Depot, then fill one up every day, labeling one end with its general contents with a Sharpie. Dedicate one room or closet for neatly stacking the filled file boxes, labeled contents in front. Recruit any other household members to get with the program, even kids.

This minor daily activity can help you move out of the paralysis that can hold you back from this major life change. Avoid getting bogged down in minutiae by staying focused on the big picture: this is the first stage of your move, so now is not the time to flip through magazines or burn all your CDs. If you’ve got time on your side, do some ruthless decluttering as you fill each box, so you won’t be transferring that problem from one home to another. If time is your enemy, just fill, label and store — in an off-site self-storage unit. Yes, it’s an added expense, but think of it as buying yourself some time on the other end of the move to go through each box before you bring it into your new home.

If you’re really pressed for time, set up a chain gang of friends or mini-movers to keep up the production flow: fill, label, store, repeat until it’s done.

2007-09-10T15:33:00.000-07:00

FALL CLASSES SERVE UP HELP ON THE HOMEFRONT

ABOVE: Following a passion, like decorating with flowers, is rewarding and inexpensive, thanks to the wide variety of Continuing Education classes. Photo courtesy of Vancouver School Board

I opened my mailbox two weeks back with the zeal of someone expecting the usual thick Visa bill and assorted skyrocketing utility bills. (Why am I paying a “long distance administration fee” anyway?)

But there in the middle of all the bad news was the thick, gold Vancouver School Board Continuing Education flyer, full of possibilities for learning new methods for my madness. Woodworking, perspective drawing, PhotoShop skills, quilting, community choir… I’ve taken them all on and learned a thing or two — well, except for Conversational Italian for Travelers, where I realized I suck at second languages. On the bright side, the very reasonable course fees reduced the pain of becoming a Conversational Italian for Travelers drop-out.

Nurturing a curiosity or following a personal passion can lead to a range of life skills that can open doors to the world or inspire a second career. For me, taking the odd (sometimes very odd) continuing-ed class has been so much a part of my routine, it wasn’t a huge leap to ditch the day job and dive into full-time art and design school.

I’m heading back to all that this week, but I can’t help perusing the Continuing Ed flyer and circling some especially enticing course descriptions anyway, like Astronomy: A Historical Overview, or 100 Years of Eating: Evolution of Food.

Oh, sure, there are other more useful classes, like Income Tax Know How for Small Business or a course that could finally take the dark mystery out of spreadsheets, but how can those compete with Creative Metal Art or Nightclub Salsa & Merengue?

As usual, my interests are much bigger than my daytimer, so instead I have done a little scanning for my fellow Urban Dwellers interested in improving things on the homefront.

For low-time-commitment types, there’s Redesign Your Home In Just One Day, followed by Preparing Your Home for Sale, both on Oct. 13 at John Oliver ($39). For those of us who’ve vowed to clean up our act, there’s Create a Toxin Free Home on Sept. 19 at Churchill or Oct. 13 at Gladstone ($34), or All Season Container Gardening, at Churchill, Sept. 22 ($79). I’m trying to squeeze in Custom Matting & Mounting Techniques – Photos & Art ($92) or the Ikebana Workshop ($139 – supplies included), at both on Oct. 13 at John Oliver.

Some classes fill up fast, so get all the details and register at www.continuinged.ca or by calling 604-713-4550.

2007-08-27T07:51:00.000-07:00

NEW TRICKS FOR KEEPING CONDO CANINE CONTENT

ABOVE: Vancouver’s own Judson Beaumont has raised his Westie, Dewey’s safety zone into a work of art. Photo courtesy Straight Lines Design

Like Grandparents vow to do things differently with grandkids than they did with their own kids, I’ve adopted a few new tricks from my old dog I’m passing on to the new adoptee.

First, I will no longer be hunting around the apartment for plastic bags for picking up after him on his walks. My last dog hated to wait (back legs crossed) and I hate the idea of dedicating all that yardage of plastic to something akin to what a goose produces. Instead, I’ve invested in a tidy canister that clips discreetly to his retractable leash and dispenses refill rolls of 30 biodegradable bags. Now I just grab the leash and off we go.

I’ve also switched from the collar-leash system to harness-leash, so I can stop worrying if I’m going to break his larynx when he tries to bolt after a squirrel. And after the killer pet-food issue earlier this year I’ve vowed to feed him wholesome foods that I would readily consume like salmon, brown rice and veggies.

Most importantly, I’ve stopped seeing the canine crate as a sort of doggy jail. Our new terrier came crate-trained, meaning he readily retires to it when he’s had enough of us. I’m trying to train myself to understand that when we go out he’s not rattling the bars with a prison tin cup but is feeling secure enough to take a break from his self-appointed job alerting us to all things moving beyond the window.

But the crate itself is hideous. No amount of plush throw pillows can disguise the bulk of plastic and metal grate that screams ‘pet hospital.’ When my mom passed her pup’s two-tone maroon/beige crate on to me she said, “I don’t care if you use it; I just don’t want to see it anymore.”

One solution to dealing with an eyesore is to rethink it as a feature. Vancouver designer/woodworker Judson Beaumont’s Pet Camper has re-imagined the dog safety zone into a nostalgia-rich conversation piece. The limited edition custom Pet Camper takes four to eight weeks to hand-build, which helps explain the $2,500 price tag, but his company, Straight Lines Design, is looking at having them produced to bring the price down. At last check, this one work of art (see more of his whimsical works in his new book, “What’s Next?”) was spotted at Dr. Vigari Gallery on The Drive, and Barking Babies on Homer.

2007-08-21T12:57:00.000-07:00

GROW A GARDEN PASSION — OR GO LOW-MAINTENANCE

ABOVE: Dedicated volunteer urban gardeners rely heavily on perennials to create blooming boulevards that keep grabbing our attention with a changing palette.

This time of year, every urban green space in this town is bursting with blooms and greenery – unless you’re a delinquent balcony gardener. In that case, you probably look onto a clutter of pots with leggy, infested plantings tortured by your general neglect.

I quite understand how those springtime plans for a lush garden retreat dry up by July. The big outdoors is very distracting; there are weekend getaways that take you away from the watering routine so essential during our short but serious summer drought. When we surrender to the aphids and blackspot, those garden terrorists have won.

If this sounds like you, it’s time to ask yourself: are your more about outdoor décor or do you really want to learn to grow?

I have to admit I learn toward the former. I focus more on the style of pots than what’s in them, so I pick plants that can withstand serious neglect in the watering and grooming departments, like sedums and evergreen shrubs. Pros like my colleague, gardening coach Therese D’Monte, would find my repetitive planters of unchanging boxwood, hens and chicks, and cedar hedging tedious.

That’s why I call on her when clients would like to get beyond their odd, straggly hanging baskets and pots of exhausted, under-nourished annuals that haunt their small space in the big city. D'Monte, a garden-magazine writer and photographer, has created her own breathtaking English country garden in the city, but she keeps the advice for her clients simple: restore, replace and resolve.

• “Restore with tender loving care: Finger-check to see if the water is too dry or too wet, remove unwanted predators, cut back tired foliage and deadhead flowers, move containers to achieve a different look, and tuck in new plants of a different colour.

• “Resolve to be clever next year: Pot up your containers with perennials and buy long-lasting annuals that will endure until the first frosts.

• “Replace and be generous: Empty pots and donate the contents to a friend with a garden; purchase a fresh supply, choosing plants for fall with a supply of bulbs for spring.”

Bulbs are now available at better nurseries. In the downtown peninsula, check out Art Knapp Urban Garden at Hornby and Pacific, or Costco, which perennially (ha ha) sells bulbs in bulk bags.

For more inspiration, check out the fruits of D’Monte’s labour of love at www.theresedmonte.com.

2007-08-13T20:18:00.000-07:00

SAVE THE SUDS! FREE THE SHEETS!

ABOVE: This 1958 McCall’s ad for Tide had it right: saving energy is glamourous.

My aunt laments the loss of the Kenmore Suds Saver, which, near as I can figure, is a contraption that syphons rinse water from a washing machine and pumps it back into the next wash load. The gizmo disappeared back in the ’80s, she says, but even if you could find one, you’d need a double laundry sink to hold the saved water.

Apartment types like myself don’t have a laundry room, never mind one deep sink. My rattle-y washer/dryer stack shares space with a toilet and a bathroom sink that can’t handle a hand-washing.

Surely someone could invent a 21st-century Suds Saver to fit as a third box for the typical condo washer/dryer stack, like the DVD player we added to our audio/visual stack.

That’s where my brain was going as I was doing laundry the old(er)-fashioned way last week on one of the less glamourous Gulf Islands. When your water supply must be rationed and your electricity comes from a solar/wind-power set-up, you learn to be frugal — or go grubby. You learn to re-use the rinse water in the next wash, then re-use it to water the garden. You transfer your wet clean clothes into the attached spinner of your compact washer, then haul it all to the laundry line and let the sun and wind do their thing. You learn to love the smell of air-dried clothes and the ‘loofah’ feeling of a rough air-dried towel after a shower. You discover wash day’s a rare chance to let your mind wander.

The quiet squeal of the pulleys yanks me back to an early memory, when every house in my East Van neighbourhood had a laundry line, and women chatted across back porches as they yarded on the cords and stretched the supply of clothespegs by shamelessly linking bulbous brassieres to gigantic men’s underwear to cloth diapers.

As I pulled and pegged, I thought about the shallow, petty strata bylaw that prohibits “unsightly” laundry lines in most condo complexes, yet dryer vents spewing wastefully hot, perfumed exhaust, even in the summer heat is just fine. I think about joining the ‘Right to Dry’ movement (check out laundrylist.org) but decided to hang it all and be the rebel.

I think about why we always assume that with each passing year we’re progressing forward, when in fact, in many ways we’re losing ground.

2007-08-06T22:27:00.000-07:00

CITY LIVING CAN BE IDEAL FOR THE RIGHT DOG

ABOVE: Dogs and people have evolved together to feel at home in all sorts of living situations.

Two years after that fateful day at the vet hospital when the Man of the House and I hugged our cancer-riddled 12-year-old Westie for the last time, we are thisclose to welcoming a dog back into our lives.

There’s a little rescue cairn terrier in our very near future who needs the kind of permanent home we can provide — at least, that was the conclusion of a volunteer “home inspector” of the U.S.-based Col. Potter Cairn Rescue Network (cairnrescue.com).

I had my doubts that we would pass Colonel Potter’s muster; wouldn’t my online application I filled out last month be deleted once the inspector (if there really was one) realized our home is actually a city apartment three stories off the ground in a very urban neighbourhood defined by a destination shopping strip, just outside the downtown core?

Turns out the inspector part was serious. Before I knew it I was apologizing to the local volunteer — one of 600 in the six-year-old society — for the common entrance to our unit, the small deck that offered no chance of a view at cairn height, and the surely old cat. But she was pleased (the inspector, not the cat; she’s about to become permanently displeased). She was glad to see a secured deck (terriers are great escape artists), a nearby doggy park, flexibility in work hours.

In retrospect I don’t see why I worried. After all, canines have been human companions for 15,000 years. We’ve managed to adapt from caves to highrises and long hunts for food to long commutes for food money; the domestic dog is just as adaptable. The key is the fit between dog temperament and human lifestyle.

Which brings me to the second volunteer contact from Col. Potter: the matchmaker. My first thought ran along the ‘Oh, for gawdsakes’ line, but second thoughts saw the wisdom in it. We are an active household, so a slow mover would be a boat anchor to us. Also, a big dog could clear my work-in-progress surfaces with one swipe of a tail.

Our preference for small size, big personality and some independence became data that led to our match two weeks ago to an active 22-pound six-year-old orphan. Wisecracking friends have said it’s probably easier to adopt a kid than this fur-kid. Maybe, but if all dog-seekers had to pass inspection and work with a matchmaker, we might not have “bad dog” issues.

2007-07-30T21:53:00.000-07:00

HAPPY DOWNSIZERS RE-THINK THEIR WAYS

ABOVE: Working with a floorplan and to-scale cutouts of your furniture is a good way to explore the possibilities.

A few years back, a co-worker moved from a little apartment and into the main floor of a nice big house in Richmond. When I showed up with the rest of the house-warming party, I noticed she hadn’t quite adjusted to all this space. The livingroom walls were largely bare, except for some tall, narrow bookshelves jammed with stuff. She was still living small.

“You know, you can spread out a bit here,” I said. “Enjoy some horizontal surfaces.”

She seemed a little startled, like she’d only just noticed the columns of clutter in all the emptiness.

It’s a nice problem to have, and a rare one if you live in Vancouver. We’re more likely to be challenged by trying to find space in half the square-footage we’re used to. Recently I helped a client figure out a way to do just that: downsize into a townhouse after raising her family in a roomy Westside house.

She was working with a floorplan and bits of paper representing her furniture, but was stumped at how to fit it all in. She didn’t like the idea of perching on one of two stools set up at the kitchen island for breakfast, but couldn’t see a space for a little breakfast table. Meanwhile, the den in her new digs wouldn’t fit both a TV, armchair and sewing table, so she was trying to figure a way to wedge a sewing table into the dining room. She was preparing herself for the possibility that she would have to part with her luxuriously large teak dining room set, buffet and wall unit.

She was used to watching TV in a small den and doing crafts in a second bedroom, rarely venturing into the livingroom. I soon convinced her to take that major living space over — it’s her very own townhouse, after all — and suggested she invest in a modern recliner that matches the sofa. This way she would not only have a great spot for watching TV; she could leave the little den for craft work that could be left in progress.

As for her breakfast-place dilemma, I suggested she embrace the kitchen island (it’s a great spot for spreading out the morning paper or having a new neighbour in for coffee) but replace the stools with a couple of high-backed upholstered counter-height chairs. She was delighted to find she would have a life after all.

2007-07-23T18:17:00.000-07:00

ANOTHER FARMER'S MARKET ENHANCES DAILY-SHOPPING ROUTINE

Above: Buying flowers at local farmers markets is another way to choose products that don’t travel great distances and support area growers.

If I remember my Beverly Hillbillies correctly, one episode had a man trying to convince Jethro to abandon his outhouse. It’s far from everybody, he argued. You have to leave the house, walk a long way in the woods, sometimes at night. Jethro answered: “Ain’t it great!”

I go all Jethro when it comes to the “inconvenience” of frequent household shopping. Anyone who is accustomed to making a bi-weekly drive down to the Megalomart for 15 bags of groceries might pity apartment-dwellers’ lack of a vehicle or cupboard space for those bulk buys of 60 rolls of toilet paper or flats of San Pellegrino, but I say, ain’t it great! Give me that walk-and-shop routine any day (or every day) over the hassle of driving anywhere in the city core. Give me the luxury of no meal-planning beyond the next one, nor trip-planning beyond tripping into the store I happen to come upon.

That routine turns into a small delight for those of us who live within walking distance of a farmers market — which up to now has not included me — and get our pick of the freshest local fruits and veggies, plants, meat, cheese, eggs and locally-prepared preserves. I’ve long envied my friends whose Saturdays begin with a leisurely breakfast before a walk (with own bags) to the Nelson Park or Trout Lake farmers markets, or my brother’s family, who moseys over to the Nat Bailey stadium farmers market on Wednesday afternoons.

Things started looking up when I discovered the Thursday farmers market at Granville Island last year but as of this Sunday (July 15), I can finally enhance my own neighbourhood weekend shopping routine as well as my commitment to eat locally produced foods and support area farmers. Yes, the Kitsilano farmers market is finally here, hitting the community centre parking lot, 10 a.m. to 2 p.m., ’til Oct. 14.

The other benefit of local, every-day shopping: no bag pile-ups. Instead of schlepping home a dozen or more plastic bags after a major supermarket excursion to add to the pile already dangerously close to taking over a cupboard, every-day shopping requires only a couple of bags. I’m a big fan of the large $2 striped Ikea plastic beach totes that fold into nothing, and the nylon grocery bags that stuff into themselves to lipstick-size packs and hook onto a keychain, last seen at Paboom on West 4th Avenue.

2007-07-16T10:11:00.000-07:00

SHINY-SINK PHILOSOPHY ISN'T SO WEIRD AFTER ALL

ABOVE: Mixing the shine of metal with painted wood and fresh white mums instantly perks up a front entrance.

Now that it’s summer I can’t help but notice I’ve yet to do my spring household shovel-out. The listing piles of paperback books and dusty nests of wires in my so-called wireless world seem to be multiplying, and my response is to flee to the seawall.

This general overwhelmed feeling is how I once found myself absorbed in a book about housekeeping at Chapters. Now before you jump to a more sensible article, hear me out. This how-to book would not get the Martha Stewart stamp of approval; it was written not to perfectionists but to regular people who occasionally find their spaces getting away from them.

The author of this book —I’ve forgotten both names due to my own cluttered mind — was all about the kitchen sink. Her view is, even if you’re paralyzed by the chaos all around you, get that kitchen sink sparkling clean. She then proceeds to give specific instructions on how to achieve gleaming sink glory.

I was like you: I sniffed at this apparently useless bit of advice, but it stuck in my head. After a very long time I started to see something ingenious about that tactic, and it comes down to the design of the sink. It’s really just a mini, self-contained room that is easily conquerable. All it takes is what my mom likes to call elbow grease and 10 minutes’ commitment.

There’s also something about the material of the sink. The rest of the place may look like it barely survived Hurricane Katrina but the high shine of reflective stainless steel from that sink is like a beacon of hope. It’s just another example of how physical design can affect our psychological state.

Zeroing in on one small task and basking in the small glory of a job well done creates a domino effect. That instant sense of accomplishment gives us heart to take on another small task, like the one in this photo. Even if what’s behind the door may look like the scene of recent cockfights, the outside holds the promise of calm simplicity. In this example, I took a cue from the kitchen-sink advice lady by focusing on a very small space and bringing in some shine in the form of two tin buckets. All front-door clutter was reduced to a few elements limited to white and black – just enough to brave the rooms beyond.

2007-07-09T08:05:00.000-07:00

CREATIVITY WINS OVER CASH WHEN IT COMES TO STYLE

ABOVE: A collection of wooden needlework hoops create a whimsical bubble effect on this livingroom wall. Carlyn Yandle photo

I got my share of ribbing for devoting a recent column to crafting a room-divider out of garbage bags (see www.theclutterhead.blogspot.com), but there’s method in my madness: this belief that you need money to have great décor is bunk. One look inside the spaces of one of the city’s many poverty-stricken artists could tell you that.

Despite what our over-consumptive culture tells us, good taste has nothing to do with buying power; it’s quite the opposite. In a society where we tend to throw money at our problems, we look around our home, we’re disappointed in what we see, so we go buy more furniture and do-dads. We are not conditioned to see that less is more; that the space between the stuff is just as important.

That’s why a good chunk of my design work is editing out all the extras. I go to someone’s home — usually because they’re planning to sell but the place needs some love — armed with my pack of Post-It Notes. As I’m toured around each room, I stick a Post-It on each item that has to go: the mismatched lamps and overabundance of side tables, the bad big-box-retailer ‘art’, the listing fiberboard bookshelves, the fake fig trees and water-stained baskets bearing sad houseplants, the extra dining chairs stuck in the corners. Sometimes it’s a lot easier just to tag what needs to stay. The idea is to improve function, mobility and enhance the feeling of space.

Then I ask the homeowner if she has anything she likes to collect. Half the time there’s something hiding in a china cabinet or an old trunk that we daylight and use as art once the decks are cleared. Once it was rolls of high-end wrapping paper, which we fanned out in a large vase like a bouquet of flowers. Another time it was old suitcases that were stacked into side tables flanking the sofa. I once hung several vintage fabrics on a long wrought-iron curtain rod installed a foot above eye level, turning each fabric piece into an artpiece.

In this week’s photo, a livingroom wall becomes a feature for a collection of different-sized needlework hoops hung on straight pins, arranged to create a bubble effect. There’s something satisfying about using humble, overlooked items that have been in service for years in surprising new ways. That ability to provoke and delight through décor takes more than money.

2007-07-02T15:43:00.000-07:00

DECOR DECISIONS A CHANCE TO MAKE GREENER, SAFER CHOICES

ABOVE: Choosing locally grown flowers to enhance a room has an impact on the environment. Rebecca Blissett photo

There’s nothing like a world-wide food-safety scare to get us thinking about where our food comes from. Add a generally higher awareness of the environmental cost of long-distance shipping and suddenly we’re all bent on shopping local.

But it’s not just food; we’re starting to question goods from countries that don’t have firm environmental and health-safety standards in manufacturing. Reminding us to keep rethinking are the regular reports of recalls of everything from lines of little-girl metal jewelry containing dangerous amounts of lead to some Thomas the Tank Engine wood toys with high lead levels in the paint.

Ever since my mom and I had to flee a trendy Chinese-furniture store after she was overcome by fumes from the merchandise, I’ve been waiting for some similar recalls on home-décor imports. (Was it the pesticide used to fumigate those ‘antique’ wood armoires? Was there something noxious in the paints and lacquers?)

With little information about the health risks of imported consumables and a lot more information on what long-distance travel does to the ozone layer, many of us are opting to forego big-box-retailer deals and pay a little more for some peace of mind.

When it comes to food, we’re starting to choose to eat what’s grown near by, which means getting in the habit of eating what’s naturally in season. As much as I love avocados, I could get used to enjoying that rhythm of the seasons that was a part of my grandparents’ lives, when the first dish of fresh berries in June was a big deal, and fresh baby corn was an August thing.

Same goes with flowers. We’re used to seeing a wide array of exotic, out-of-season blooms all year round at the local green-grocer, but they come with an environmental cost from long-distance travel or high-energy greenhouse-growing. By limiting our consumption of flowers – for our homes, or as gifts — to what’s grown nearby and in season, we begin to become aware of the natural seasons: pussywillows in January; plum blossoms in March; lilacs for Mother’s Day; sunflowers in late summer; berry branches and holly in winter. Changing up vases and elements like pebbles or pinecones helps emphasize each season.

Seasonal flowers are not only a more sustainable choice; they serve as an ever-changing focal point that keeps spaces fresh, reflecting the time of year, and don’t suck up storage space.

2007-06-25T10:27:00.000-07:00

CONVERTIBLE BED OPTIONS GROWING WITH SMALL-CONDO MARKETS

ABOVE: A flip-down bed creates smart seating in the tiny, minimalist apartment.

I’ve been asked a lot lately to write about the best convertible bed solution for overnight guests in the wee home or the apartment/condo. This may be because we put up (and put up with) more company in the tourist season, but I wonder if some urban dwellers are smelling a lucrative Olympic opportunity to rent their places for the two weeks and mulling ways to fit a family into their tiny pads.

While I’m not advocating short-term rentals — an issue creeping up on the table of Vancouver strata councils — I do have some thoughts on where to put overnighters.

I’ve been through all of the options, from the couch cushions on the floor (the late-night solution), the futon, the hide-a-bed, the blow-up bed and its deluxe version, the BYO bed/bed-in-a-beg, the minimalist fold-out contained-frame bed and finally, the wall bed.

Right off, unless you’re consciously trying to discourage returning guests or lengthy stays, do not be tempted by the offer to give a home to a hand-me-down hide-a-bed. You can try to upgrade the lumpy mattress with an egg-carton foamie or switch up the mattress altogether, but you cannot escape the fact that a bar runs horizontally along your poor aching back.

Next up, the futon, quite nice to sleep on if you like a firm mattress, but unlike the Japanese versions, your futon is in full view as a couch by day. If it’s a low-end futon frame, it looks like a couple of pallets knocked together. Higher-end frames have armrests at least, but for the price, it’s worth checking out other alternatives that offer a little more cush in the tush.

That brings me to the fold-out bed, as shown here. Chic and unobtrusive for modern décors, these beds come in an ever-widening variety of colours and price tags, from spots like Ikea to boutique furniture stores.

The blow-up flocked mattress has been improved by the ‘BYO bed’ that includes a large sleeve to stuff the mattress, attached to an extendable frame. Anyone can put one together and at around $150 at places like Canadian Tire, it’s a tempory solution.

The most inviting option is the wall bed. I had a queen posturepedic disguised as an armoire installed in our study, replacing just two bookshelves, for under $2,000. The expense is offset by the fact that a wallbed creates dual-purpose room, and improves resale value on the home.

2007-06-18T09:52:00.000-07:00

FUN DECOR SOLUTION FOR YOUR MOUNTAIN OF PLASTIC BAGS

ABOVE: When life gives you plastic bags, turn them into a craft! Perk up your patio with an all-weather, whimsical, washable drape that evokes apple blossoms.

Creating a design is a lot like writing a column. An idea starts knocking around the ol’ noodle until it demands to come out, on paper. It never just flows for me; like working on this column, I start off smooth enough but I can quickly go off course, and soon I’m flailing away, wondering what I’m doing here.

It’s been that way with my design ideas for reusing plastic bags that seem to multiply under the kitchen sink, despite all efforts (and nagging) to use the heavy-duty/dirt cheap Vancouver Public Library bags in the closet. (Oops — there I go again, reeling off side.)

I’ve had a lot of ideas for putting those bad bags to good use, like crocheting them into bags (boring, pointless) and braiding them into coils to serve as doormats (hideous). Last year’s Emily Carr School of Art and Design grad show included a stunning white knitted sweater made of plastic bags (might scratch like those Phentex slippers my grandma made).

But, like column-writing, occasionally I will land on something that’s worth completing, and instead of doing the equivalent of moving the whole file to Trash, I see it through and spread the word.

Voila! The all-weather balcony drape — perfect for providing a little filtered light on harsh southern-exposed patios; camouflaging an ugly, dark cement wall; or foiling snoopy neighbours. By limiting the plastic to just white, the effect evokes the strands of blossom decorations seen in Japan every spring. Not bad for a bunch of IGA bags.

To make your own deck drape you only need to remember three numbers: 2, 3, and 7. Drag out your mountain of plastic bags and sort out the white ones, even if they have writing on them. Cut a seven-inch strip out of each bag, buck up that piece into 2x7- inch strips, tossing the strips with colour. (I used a cutting wheel and a self-healing mat to make quick work of this.) Tie bunches of three strips end to end with other bunches of three until you’ve made a long streamer. Fluff out the ‘blossoms.’ Tie a knot at one end of each streamer and thread it through one of those plastic rods used to contain electrical cords to keep them tidy. Repeat until you’ve used up all your white bags, adding to your drape whenever you need to reduce the accumulation of bags.

It takes me about 30 minutes per streamer — an easy little project to pick up while watching my stories and stewing about the lack of a sustainable solution to our addiction to plastic bags.

2007-06-11T08:01:00.000-07:00

TIME'S RIGHT TO GREEN UP OUR STINKY, UGLY LANES

ABOVE: A reclaimed strip of laneway in Kitsilano makes use of old concrete as a mosaic of pavers between a grid that allows vegetation and vehicles to co-exist.

If Vancouver’s competing household garbage-pickup companies had their way, our city lanes would be wide strips of blacktop bordered by super-size trash bins for efficient mechanized dumping.

In fact, that’s pretty much the direction the city has been going the last half century. Neighbourhood narrow gravel back lanes have slowly been blacktopped for ease of mammoth trucks but that shortsightedness has led to a new set of problems: impatient commuters careening through alleys in hot pursuit of shortcuts; rain that can’t reach the soil and feed plants, overloading storm drains; the loss of valuable greenspace so important to offsetting CO2 emissions.

Things are more disastrous in downtown back alleys. They’re so inhospitable, we’ve all but handed over some of the most valuable land in Canada to unsavoury activities and filth that comes with all the dripping, stinking, behemoth dumpsters. Giant trash containers are not only irresistible to rodents and graffiti taggers but their mere size conveys the idea that there’s no need to limit our garbage. And what do we do about too much garbage? We just pay for more frequent pick-up service. Poorly lit, festering downtown alleys are unhealthy, risky places to walk through on our own; no wonder it’s easier for the city to continue to turn its back on most of our back lanes.

That garbage-centred thinking has to end. Downtown lanes could be put to better use as pedestrian-only corridors that access more apartments and shops. The off-street rental rates could allow for wider commercial possibilities, like small mom-and-pop businesses selling anything from kabobs to stationery. Dumpsters could be stowed within buildings, behind garage-door covers, wheeled out during trash collection, which could happen outside of business hours, and all on the same day.

I never would have considered the idea of reclaiming our disastrous downtown lanes had I not spent time wandering the narrow thoroughfares (better known as pedestrian zones) of some very livable, progressive European and Asian cities. Where we have stink and fear, they have vibrant enclaves of charming hole-in-the-wall shops linked by strings of festive lights.

Experiencing the alternative makes the seemingly impossible possible. The same goes with the “Country Lane” adjacent to the city’s compost demonstration garden at 6th and Maple in Kitsilano. Walking that picturesque half-block strip that takes back the green back lane has given me faith that undoing some of that asphalt efficiency isn’t a pipe dream after all.

2007-06-04T07:04:00.000-07:00

NEW IDEAS FOR 'HOME' NECESSARY IN THIS PRICEY CITY
ABOVE: Daring to think differently can result in such charming living options as this group of domed dwellings at Villa Dome Quixote, New Denver, in the Kootenays.

When I’m hit with writer’s block, I often abandon ship for a while and surf on over to eBay to lurk at the weird stuff people are unloading. When I feel myself sinking into minor despair over the tsunami of consumer crap out there I change tack and search for a copy of one of my favourite childhood books, “Come Over To My House.” Anyone who knows me would not be surprised to see why this “vintage” (horrors!) book would appeal to me, and hopefully it's not because there’s no plot. Each page features an illustration of a kid in different traditional dress, in front of a different exotic dwelling. There’s the picture of shacks on stilts in what could be Indonesia; a bank of floating, pastel mansions in what must be Venice; a steep-pitched house in the mountains (Finland?); low-slung adobe huts in the desert. I dreamed of visiting all those lands and living in a treehouse or a thatch-roofed cottage.

I’m still dreaming of the day when Vancouverites will not be faced with just two dwelling options: the single-lot home or the mixed-density building complex. Most of us looking for a city home can’t afford any choice at all in type of housing and are left comparing a 500-square-foot orange downtown to a 800-square-foot orange in Metrotown. And the idea of growing some of our own food is sheer fantasy.

But the Smallworks single- or double-garage-sized kit cabin (www.smallworks.ca) featured at the recent Interior Design Expo has rekindled my hope for more dwelling options to come. With city planners and politicians on side for the rezoning, the back-lane cottage could easily double the number of homes in current space-hogging neighbourhoods without changing the street-scape. One innovation and we’ve got a whole range of dwelling choices. ‘Empty-nesters’ who don’t want the burden of their big old home (but don’t necessarily want to rip up their roots to the community and move into an apartment) could relocate into the cabin and rent out the existing house to gain an income, or sell the big house altogether. Mortgage-laden homeowners could erect the cabin to rent out as revenue property, or to their aging parents or adult kids. Or they could sell it to first-time home-buyers to reduce their own debt.

I dwell on dwelling options because I plan to keep living here, despite the threat the Vancouver will be an exclusive address for the wealthy.

2007-05-28T08:24:00.000-07:00

FIXIN' VIXENS MAY MEAN THE END OF MY HANDYMAN-HUNT

ABOVE: Yolanda (“Yo!”) Ricketts’ dog rides shotgun in her Fixin’ Vixens white truck.

They say that if you want to play on the stock market, your hunches are as important as the stats. For example, when Starbucks first started to alter the urban landscape it was clear the hyper-aggressive marketing of a hip franchise serving up an irresistible combo of caffeine, sugar and fat is as addictive as McDonald’s is to kiddies.

I was in one of those Starbucks to meet the owner of the year-old Fixin’ Vixens “handygal” service, after I was hit with the same hunch. Every time I passed the white van parked on Terminal Avenue, with the ladder on the top and the girly silhouette on the side I thought: now there’s a business with potential. Just the ticket for the booming demographic of single women homeowners who are leery about calling a handyman to their condo. But after meeting Yolanda Ricketts, the self-described “customer service gal” decked out in official Fixin’ Vixen uniform, I started to see light at the end of the tunnel where handymen are hoovered into the city’s hungry construction industry. Could this be the beginning of the end of my handyman-hunt?

“Handygal” is how Ricketts refers to the extremely capable female employees who do everything “outside the wall.” For example, they will change a bathroom faucet but won’t re-route the plumbing, or replace a light fixture but won’t rework the breaker box.

What will they do? Everything an experienced handyman would do, says Ricketts: replace old bathroom tile, paint walls, fix the broken stuff, put together Ikea furniture and take all those DIY projects that we’d rather were GAPI (Get Another Person Instead) projects.

Just then her cell phone rings. “She’s my employee,” she says softly into the phone (as I eavesdrop). “She’s been working real hard so I think she deserves a spa treatment.” Clearly not your usual handyman banter.

The challenge for this young venture is competing with unrealistically low rates. Anybody with a truck, some tools and a phone number could call himself a handyman and work at rock-bottom, cash-only rates, so the Vixens must constantly explain the need for fair wages to keep her skilled handygals happy and dependable. Some people get it; some balk at it, says Ricketts, but it’s obviously not hurting business; the Fixin’ Vixens are hopping busy and adding handygals steadily to keep pace with the home-improvement boom. More info at 604-809-4FIX or fixinvixens.com.

2007-05-22T10:25:00.000-07:00

RESTORE HAS IT ALL — INCLUDING THE KITCHEN SINK

ABOVE: Looking for ornate wall sconces or enough wood flooring for one room? Check Habitat for Humanity’s ReStore first.

My new stone-heavy vintage ’60s coffee table with chrome legs and white acrylic composite top was such a steal, I’m compelled to announce to anyone who walks into my living room: “15 bucks! Can you believe it?!” Uncool, I know, but I’d like to create a little excitement around the source of my latest acquisition: ReStore, at its new, second location near Marine Drive and Manitoba (69 W. 69th) in January.

For those not in the know, ReStore is part of the used-reno supplies mecca that includes Jack’s in Burnaby, a few minutes’ drive east of Brentwood Mall. I could suck up the better part of a day poking around at the jumble of medicine cabinets and picture mirrors, scheming on ways to put them to good use. But I don’t get out that way very often, so when I heard that ReStore had opened a second location in Vancouver in January, Mom and I made a detour en route to Ikea.

ReStore is run by Habitat for Humanity, the Christian faith-based charitable organization that former U.S. President Jimmy Carter made famous by picking up a hammer and joining the large-scale volunteer effort to build proper homes for the needy. The 71 Canadian affiliates have created nearly 900 projects nation-wide, including some in the Lower Mainland.

From the point of view of a home-owner looking to do some light renovations on a budget, ReStore is an important resource, especially in these white-hot real estate times when near-new appliances are tossed for ever-higher-end appliances in the push for higher asking prices on properties.

It’s hard not to wonder, on the wander down the aisles at the perfectly good patio dining sets, kitchen cabinetry carpeting and wood window blinds, at the waste created in this real estate boom. All the more reason to hit the ReStore before the usual stores when you’re looking for a new bathroom light fixure — or even a new-to-you sink.

Some of the donations are excess amounts of top-quality finishing materials, but those two or three unopened boxes of special-order tiles donated by a contractor might be all that a condo-dweller needs but can’t get in such small quantity from the usual stores.

Donations keep the whole wonderful system working so if you’d like to contribute items to the cause, call ahead at 604 326-3055 to see if the store can use them — and don’t expect pick-up service.

2007-05-14T10:33:00.000-07:00

BREAK THE DISPOSABLE-FURNITURE CYCLE BY THINKING AHEAD

ABOVE: A simple black metal table with glass top can make it in the living room now and the patio years later.

You know it’s well and truly spring when the Ikea flyer arrives with patio furniture galore. But if you’re like that chunk of graduating students at this time of year who can barely afford to live on their own, let alone own furniture, the idea of suiting up an outdoor room is sheer fantasy.

For many, the reality is scary student loans and ridiculously high rent, leaving no choice but to resume tolerating the typical student décor: the saggy futon, whatever appears in the alley or local thrift store, a couple of floor cushions or novelty blow-up chairs, and the ol’ milk crates-draped-with-scarves table/shelving system.

This is the first of a lifetime of cycles of consuming and discarding furniture: first it’s the temporary junk that serves you between your travels, school, and various living situations in your early twenties; then it’s the cast-offs from older siblings or parents for your first basement suite or shared accommodation in your mid-twenties. As you approach your late-twenties you show enough commitment (and funds) to purchase some cheap and cheerful Ikea knock-together furniture, and finally, when you hit your thirties, you will one day announce that you’ve had it with the flimsy fads and kick it all down to your poorer/younger/less settled friends and family, and start acquiring a few quality items for your by-now stable living situation (or as stable as it’s ever going to be). By now, décor disposal has become a lifetime habit, and the cycle continues.

Gross generalization, I know, but I keep seeing this trend playing itself out. Sadly, it all makes for a lot of landfill as we increasingly view couches and tables as future throw-aways. The only way to break the consume-discard cycle is to buy quality, multipurpose items.

Which brings me back to the Ikea patio flyer. Solid-wood or metal outdoor tables and matching chairs or benches are a good buy for the great indoors. They’re durable and stowable, making them a smart alternative to those bargain dinette suites you’ll tire of a decade later. Pump up the patio dining sets with tablecloths and placemats, and add seat and throw cushions for comfort. Hard-wearing openwork metal side tables also serve well in the living room.

The best part is that when you finally decide one day that you need grown-up furniture in your grown-up home, you’ll already have a collection for that outdoor room you’ve always dreamed about.

2007-05-07T19:59:00.000-07:00

INSPIRED WINDOW DISPLAYS REFLECTS A CREATIVE CITY
ABOVE: The cardboard cake and acid-colour birthday party props make a provocative window display at Paboom on West 4th and Yew.

If you haven’t seen the Fred Herzog show at the Vancouver Art Gallery yet, go. It explains a lot about Vancouver, especially to those who weren’t around before Expo 86 changed everything.

Long before that era between Expo and the Olympics bid, when Vancouver was largely a three dressed up as a nine, Herzog’s images were of a port town of working people of another time, before we were all besieged by Hummer/Porche values and stretch SUV limos bearing self-congratulatory licence plates insisting that this is “The Best Place on Earth.” I grew up here, so I’m still a little startled to round a corner and find myself smack up against yet another gleaming “world class” condo tower or another exquisite/exclusive martini lounge that looks like it was plucked off the streets of Soho.

However, I have to admit there’s some good stuff in all this growth, particularly in the burgeoning creative class. It’s there in provocative public sculptures like David Oppenheim’s Device to Root Out Evil (or, more commonly, Upside-down Church) in Coal Harbour. It’s in action at the massive, grassroots Illuminaries festival at Trout Lake and Folk Festival at Jericho Beach every July. And it’s evident every day in stores that boost their presence through inspired design and display that depend on artistic types to make it all happen.

Back in the port-town days, there was one way for retailers to entice Vancouverites to venture inside: line up as many wares as possible in the window, whether it’s hardware or handbags, each with an orange burst price tag. Practical and very boring.

Today, with skyrocketing store frontage rates and plenty of competition, especially from big-box retailers, smaller shops have to be creative to draw business, and it shows. Areas like Main and 25th, the Denman strip, Davie Village, the Drive, Broadway and McDonald, and Granville Rise are evolving into visually energizing communities.

Artisans working in everything from metal to wool are setting a high benchmark in retail décor along Railspur Alley, the newest development on Granville Island. Well-known conceptual artist Ken Lum co-owns the deliciously designed Gastropod on West 4th Avenue. And “theatrical installation” is more fitting than “display” in the windows of LouLou Luv on West Broadway.

Suddenly, there are so many ingenious design ideas in my boring old port town. Like a tourist in London or Paris, I’m inspired enough to stop to make notes or take photos.

2007-04-30T20:02:00.000-07:00

A BETTER TOILET WOULD IMPROVE THE VIEW
ABOVE: The sleek Toto Aquia dual-flush toilet is not the hulking, water-hogging fixture we’re used to.

Some people dream about the day they’ll own a sleek sports coupe. I dream about the day I’ll own a sleek toilet. They rattle off their wishlist: all-leather heated seats, built-in iPod dock, sunroof. I counter with mine: dual-flush, slim profile, push-button operation.

My toilet fixation has me jonesin’ for the Toto Aquia with Dual-Max Flush and Soft Close seat. It promises the end to my toilet trouble that begins at the doorway of my two bathrooms, each featuring a straight-on view of a hulking, circa-1984 rubberband-beige toilet. This basic flaw in commode placement is particularly noticeable in my bathroom that’s in direct view of the living- and dining rooms. It may be handy to be able to check that the last male user put the seat down while I’m seated at breakfast but does nothing to enhance the dining experience. (As I type this in an armchair I see our houseguest has left the lid up.)

Better bathrooms are more discreet. At the very least the view should frame the sink on the opposite wall, with the business fixture tucked beside the door or behind the shower barrier.

The trouble with toilets is they can’t be moved without an extensive renovation featuring an expensive cast of characters that may include a minor-demolition dude, plumber, dry-waller, tiler and an electrician. The sewer stack – that’s the thing under the toilet – does not relocate easily. (Apologies to those who are reading this over lunch.) Condo- and apartment-dwellers may need permission from the strata council to re-route the stack, if that’s even possible, which requires submitting specific plans and a time schedule for a water shutdown. In short, moving the head can be one big headache.

This is where my one of my favourite re-design rules of thumb comes in: if you’re stuck with the function, make it a feature. I could live with a view of a $600 low-flow toilet that resembles porcelain sculpture but is a bargain compared to a bathroom reno. Switching a toilet is a do-it-yourself project if you’re handy, you have a burly helper and you know what a wax O-ring is. If not, get a plumber in to do the job right.

I won’t be ready until I find that final missing toilet feature: a seat alarm to add to my wish list that would train offenders to return the seat to its rightful down position.