My dad and I built a Victorian dollhouse when I was young. It was a really memorable time for me. I want to say it was fun, but I took the whole project so seriously, like homework. It was overwhelming and challenging and I learned so much- not just about building miniatures, or about Victorian times, or measure-twice-cut-once, but about my dad and his creative process. He thought of every possible detail. What color the mortar should be for the faux brick trim, what type of furniture was historically relevant, what type of people would live in the house if it were real. He would get wistful and nostalgic for a time he never even knew... and I totally absorbed that trait from him. His precision and detailed care for every little roof tile and every individual tiny wooden floor panel meant so much to me. He went through all that trouble just so I could have a perfect dollhouse. (But mostly, OCD.) He wanted this house to be historically accurate, so we scoured dollhouse catalogs for the best photos to emulate. When we shopped for tiny wallpaper, we stood for several minutes, carefully considering light blue versus light pink moire. (We decided on the blue, so I could use pink accents in furniture and decor.)
*Sidebar- Seriously, guys... how did we not know my dad was gay?
Part of what made the experience so memorable was the fact that I was allowed into his office each night after dinner to help him work. Even though our home was enormous (roughly 3,000 square feet... epic for hide-and-seek), it was hard for my parents to ever find a place to have peace and quiet, given the four of us kids were constantly someplace/everyplace. My dad spend nights building models in his office downstairs, and my mom, upstairs, would sew.
Being Broadway obsessed, my dad would have an appropriate musical selection for whatever project he was consumed with. We listened to the cast recording of "Ragtime" and the soundtrack to "Meet Me in St. Louis."(While building a miniature covered wagon years later in the eighth grade, we listened to "Paint Your Wagon," obviously.) A concept that was re-visited often in our design process was that of "ice cream colors," in reference to dreamy pastels that would have been seen in house paint of days gone by. Think town homes in San Francisco's well-curated Castro district, or a bowl of melted pistachio or peppermint stick ice cream, or, hey! These lyrics from the Prologue of "Ragtime:"
"...The skies were blue and hazy,
Rarely a storm. Barely a chill...
The afternoons were lazy,
Everyone warm. Everything still.
And there was distant music,
Simple and somehow sublime,
Giving the nation
A new syncopation-
The people called it Ragtime!
The days were gently tinted
Lavender pink, lemon and lime.
...Ladies with parasols
Fellows with tennis balls
There were gazebos, and...
The were no negroes.
And everything was Ragtime..."
(Uh... just ignore that last bit... and P.S.- congrats to Mississippi for finally abolishing slavery.)
More color inspiration photos will be added later... When I figure out how to do html on my tablet without yelling at it.