On Kitchens and Confidence
The acid-induced hellscapes of my dreams
When I bought my first home back in 2017, I was so excited to redecorate and renovate that I could literally not sleep. My brain would be buzzing with inspiration I saw on Pinterest—ideas that I hoped to replicate in the 1920s Mediterranean home I had so eagerly made an offer on. I would stay up just toying with ideas in my head, so electric with anticipation that I couldn’t think of much else.
As soon as we moved in, we got to work and the kitchen was the first big upgrade. At the time, though, I didn’t have much of a budget, so we tried to do what we could do to transform the space ourselves. That meant removing the low-hanging ceiling tiles, painting the entire space bright white, painting the cabinets dark green, moving the stove out of the kitchen island, getting new countertops installed, and adding a white tiled backsplash. Finally, we painted the floor tiles in Beetlejuice-inspired black and white stripes.
I loved it. It was my first home and I was so proud—and even more so when I started hearing from design blogs that wanted to feature the space.
When photos of my kitchen started popping up on Pinterest and various other websites, I got such a thrill—until some local, self-proclaimed interiors expert took to Facebook to slam the space. “I have lost all respect for” the design blogs that shared my kitchen, he wrote, adding: “This is the acid-induced hellscape of my nightmares.”
Look, in hindsight, it’s hilarious. Acid-induced hellscape sounds pretty badass, after all. But at the time, I was heartbroken. It was my kitchen, not designed for anyone else, and I didn't understand why someone would be so upset by how I lived my life.
The kitchen evolved with time (the painted tile floors, for instance, were eventually replaced by Clé tile floors, now immortalized forever in Big Thrift Energy).
My confidence in myself evolved, too. Since then, I’ve gotten a book deal (all about how to recreate the acid-induced hellscape interiors I love so much) and it’s been featured in outlets ranging from House Beautiful to Elle Magazine.
Any time you do something exciting—whether it’s writing a best-selling book or seeing your dinky little hand-painted kitchen featured in a design blog—there will be people who want to tear it down. Not because it isn’t great and not because it’s a hellscape. Just because it triggers their own insecurities. Why did that person get their kitchen in a design blog? Why wasn’t it me?
Here’s the thing, though: There’s room for everyone. If you want your own kitchen featured in a magazine/blog/design publication, all you have to do is pitch it. Same with writing a book—I did not get the last book deal in history, I assure you, but I did spend a lot of time googling “how to pitch a book.”
I’ve had a lot more criticism than that one guy, believe me. But that one stuck with me—largely because, when I first read it, I was tempted to just stop posting about vintage, and antiques, and my love of weird design and go hide in a hole forever. I sure am glad I didn’t do that.
Here’s my advice: Don’t let the bastards get you down. And when they do, just lean into that feeling for a moment, and then get really fired up. If they want acid-induced hellscape, serve them acid-induced hellscape, honey.
Speaking of kitchens: my current kitchen was featured in Architectural Digest a couple days ago. I’m still proud. Next week, I’ll share some more details about it, along with a list of my personal kitchen must-haves.
Some other odds & ends from the week behind us:
I spoke to Good Day Atlanta about the joys of thrifting earlier this week.
Ke Huy Quan’s speech for Best Supporting Actor was such a tear-jerker. Everything Everywhere is one of the best movies I’ve seen in my entire life and the awards were all well-deserved but this speech….phew. So inspirational.
Bon Appetit dug into the popularity of oat milk lattes and some of stats are incredible.
Ben Affleck swears he had a good time at the Grammys, despite what his face looked like.
And I’ll leave you with this…