July 2008 Archives

A recent post on a favorite blog just took me back. If you will allow me the indulgence of recollection, I'd like to share my memories on a brief three months of perfection.

It was the summer after my junior year of college. As an interior design major, I had drooled for years over Charles Faudree's work. He is a cousin of an uncle, and uncle made the necessary call, and my internship was established. I made arrangements to stay with my cousins in a small town just outside Tulsa, but not far, so I could make the drive in each day. I felt like the luckiest interior design major in the entire country: I had an internship with Charles!

Years before, we had actually been to Tulsa to see his "Chateau Debt" (as he fondly called it) when I was probably only 14. I remember walking through the front door, and feeling like Annie the first time she walked into the Daddy Warbucks mansion. On coming home, I insisted on painting my room a Pratt and Lambert butter color, and swooning over Ralph Lauren's sage green Charlotte floral, the closest thing I could find to a Bennison fabric on a 14 year old's budget. (I have a picture--I'll try to find it to post.) So, yes, that was me. A fourteen year old in love with interior design and chateaus and toile.

I can't even begin to describe the months of my internship. I don't remember my first day, but I do remember walking into house, after house, after house, of perfection. Nothing out of place. Dreamy antiques all over the place. Sarah Brightman, Frank Sinatra and classical music in rotation on the shop's stereo. Meandering over to T. A. Lorton to smell the candles when it got slow. Riding in the truck to deliver furniture, to the lamp shade shop. Cleaning out the fabric room, ordering fringe for my first custom made silk pillows. Walking into the shop one day to see Charlotte Moss sitting in Charles' office, collar popped in crisp perfection. Every time I turned around, there was more fabulous.

Charles continues to remain an inspiration to me, not only for his design work, but for his heart for humanity, and his divine sense of humor.

I'm having a glorious, mellow, Sunday. We got up at the crack of dawn this morning, so that I could get David to the airport on time, and now I'm back at home, three naps and some wonderful apple strudel later, sitting on the floor of the master bedroom, listening to music and updating an operations manual.

I'm a big documenter. I document goals, heartaches, processes, ideas. Sometimes it all ends up on little pieces of note paper, and I have to go back, rearrange and compile later, but it's a process I love. This OM is years in the making, and a constant evolution. Getting into the hard copy, I didn't realize how long it had been since I'd looked at it. I've updated the electronic copy frequently--it's easy to work on at work--but I don't print it out and switch out the pages in the book often.

I came across a list I made over two years ago. It's a brief but thorough listing of systems and processes that need to be put into place. If it had been tackled properly, the OM would probably be finished by now. The fact that it didn't happen is might fault more than anything.

But that's not my point, and not the matter at hand. I'm grateful for that piece of paper. I'm grateful for whoever helped me write it, because I don't think the insights on it are all mine.

I mentioned to David the other day that I could sit down at the end of each day and write a thank you note to someone, for something. As I recount my week, I could thank: Leslie for dirt, Chelsea and Anna for working Fridays, Janet for going to Chicago so I don't have to, Dan for an awesome show in Atlanta, several people for interviews.

People are constantly doing things, interacting with me, and I don't stop often enough to let them know how much I appreciate it.