What Inspires You
Share Your Decorating Tips With Us
Cristina has been inspired by many things in her life, ranging from her family to her career to the people she’s met along the way. But when she walks through her door at the end the day, it’s her home that inspires her most. As you’ve built your home throughout the years, you’ve probably done interesting, creative things that have made your house a home. Perhaps you’ve reinvented inherited antiques. Or you’ve let your daughter paint a not-so-perfect (but adorable!) mural on her bedroom wall. Whatever you’ve done, we’d like to hear about it! Month after month, we’ll share your tales with the world—whether they be touching, intriguing or simply the funniest thing we’ve read all day. Here are a few of our favorites:
The Saltillo Tile Salvation
I recently accomplished my dream of buying my first home. It was exciting.
But it hasn’t come without challenges. For example, look at that 1970s linoleum
floor. Just look at it! The moment I walked into the condo, I couldn’t wait
to rip it up with my own two hands and replace it with the kind of kitchen
floor I’ve always wanted—the floors I’ve seen in pictures of homes in the
Southwest. Trouble is, I not only didn’t think I could afford those tiles,
I didn’t know how to install them— which is where the Internet came in.
First, I typed in: How to remove a linoleum floor. Then I looked for tiles.
I not only found step-by-step directions on how to remove my 1970s nightmare,
I found Mexican Saltillo tiles on eBay at a price I could afford! After doing
another search on how to install tiles, I rolled up my sleeves and got started.
It wasn’t easy. I laid the tile, grouted the tile and sealed it—saving
more than $1,000 by doing it myself. But that wasn’t the greatest reward.
When I look at it now, admiring the way the colors in each tile vary because
they are individually made in Mexico and baked in the sun, I feel proud that
I took a bit of the Southwest and put it in the Northwest—in my little
condominium in Jackson Hole. The floor is more creative. It’s more artistic.
It’s more reflective of me. And I did it all by myself. — Amy R., Jackson Hole, WY
A New Life For A Living Room
What’s that saying? Diamond in the rough? That’s what came to mind when I saw this 1920s gem. Boy, was it a beauty. But, unfortunately, that beauty was buried beneath years of neglect. The walls were a disaster. The floors were a mess. And that God-awful wallpaper would make anybody run. I considered running. But, instead, I bought this beauty trusting that the work would be worth it in the end. First, we removed the wallpaper. Then, we skimmed the walls and painted them a warm, neutral color. But the greatest difference came when we installed brand-new hardwood floors. The warm, golden wood made the room look both modern and traditional at the same time. And we removed some of the fireplace tiles, extending the length of the floor to make the room appear as large as it really is. The final step came when we removed the broken wall sconces and replaced them with new ones in a few simple steps. I’m happy I didn’t run. Because in the end, the house was the gem I always knew it was. — Bryan C., Cincinnati, OH
Theater Seat Surprise
One day, when I was browsing through a thrift shop in Los Angeles, I found
these amazing theater seats. The shop owner knew that the seats were made
at the turn of the century. And he also knew that they had come from a theater
in San Francisco. But I didn’t know how truly great they were until my grandfather
helped me refinish them a few weeks later. When I first saw the seats, I
thought, Ooh. How cool. But what really attracted me was what I found underneath
the seats. 
When I flipped them up, I saw a U-shaped, metal, wiry-looking
thing that I thought was used to hold theater programs. But when my grandfather
flipped up the seats, he said, “Look. You’ve got top hat racks.” My grandfather,
a carpenter who grew up in Spain and in Mexico, told me stories about going
to the theater as a little boy and seeing men hang their top hats underneath
their seats. So now, when I look at the seats, I not only remember the experience
of refinishing the wood and the decorative ironwork with my grandfather,
I remember the stories he told me about his childhood at the theater—stories
I hadn’t heard until that day. That’s why I love thrift shops. There’s a
story that goes along with everything you buy. — Alfonso M., Los Angeles
